


(You Are) My Signal Fire

by id8a



Series: My Signal Fire [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Drama, Friendship, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-03 16:29:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 46,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1072673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/id8a/pseuds/id8a
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He should be happy. He is out of Ohio. He’s in New York. With Kurt. He should be ecstatic. Except he’s not. Story how Blaine Anderson came back to life (In three parts).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One (Intro): Dead

**Author's Note:**

> Prequel to my *Remember Tonight (For It Is The Beginning Of Always)* fic.  
> I tried to address most if not all canon-related issues (even that hair-pulling steroids fiasco of the story); whether or not I succeeded – you’ll be the judge of that my dear readers. What I can say is that I’ll probably never write another story so close to the reality of Glee.  
> This story is in 3 parts.  
> I just want to say thank you in advance to anyone who goes through all 3 parts.  
> English is not my native language so I apologize for all and any grammar mistakes.  
> Title is borrowed from Snow Patrol.

**“** I could be stuck here for a thousand years

        Without your arms to drag me out

 

        Hold me close cause I need you

        To guide me to safety **“**

( Snow Patrol, “Signal Fire” )        

**PART ONE (INTRO)**

**DEAD**

Blaine is standing in the tub, motionless, almost lifeless as the hot water gently hits his body. The slow, uneven rise and fall of his chest and slow, heavy blinking of his eyes are only signs of life.

  He’s been standing in the same position for a while now although it is hard to tell exactly for how long; the only measure of time is the steam filled bathroom and droplets of water covering every available surface.

  He knows he should move, he should reach behind him, grab a soup and actually shower but even that seems like too much so he just continues standing, unmoving.

  The water turns cold without warning and it takes him one long moment to react, to actually process the sudden change in temperature. But once he does, he is spurred into action, finally. He snatches a soup and a shampoo bottle and washes himself as fast as possible. Once he’s done and out of the tub, with the towel draped around his waist, he’s shaking. But he doesn’t mind. It’s an odd thing, but it makes him feel alive; something of a rare sensation these days.

  He moves over to the sink and leans into it. Arms outstretched, palms pressed against the cold surface, head bowed down while he tries to breathe, to shake this seemingly unfading tiredness that had settled itself inside his body.

  It takes him a few long moments but he wills his one hand to wipe the fog from the mirror; two swipes of his palm across the surface, not nearly enough for the clear reflection but it will do. He prefers if he doesn’t get a good look at himself anyway because every time he does, when he _really_ looks at himself he doesn’t recognize the person staring back at him. That person seems drained, void of everything, with dead eyes and dark circles under them. That person frightens him so he avoids him; he mastered the ability of looking at the edges of his reflection.

  He moves slowly, opening a cabinet - that’s hanging on the wall left of the sink - in search of a comb and his hair gel; he’ll skip on shaving today. It’s terrifying how much energy it takes him nowadays to do even simplest of things. Like gelling his hair. He is so painfully aware of every second that his limbs are moving. They are heavy like lead and while he’s combing through his hair and slicking it back he needs to actively keep reminding himself to keep his arm _up_ and _moving._ He has never before had this kind of comprehension of gravity. It was always a little more than a theory. A force that kept him from flying, that made his pens drop onto the floor too many times than he can even count, but he never felt himself needing to _fight_ against it. Until now.

  When his hair is done he opens the small window on the opposite side of the bathroom and the cold December air rushes inside. He leans against the sink, closes his eyes and tries to take a deep breath. It stops somewhere along the way, never fully reaching his lungs; nothing new there. It’s like something is lodged behind his ribcage, permanently squeezing his lungs, making it impossible to inhale with full force.

  

  It’s been like this for _months_ now. _He_ ’s been like this. And he hates it. He hates how hard it is to get out of bed, to put his body into motion, to speak and to think. Everything is too much. Too heavy.

  And he doesn’t understand it.

  

  He should be happy. He is out of Ohio. He’s in New York. With Kurt. He should be ecstatic. Except he’s not. He is so far away from ecstatic that sometimes he feels like he’s never even experienced that particular emotion. He knows he has but he just can’t recall it.

  What he is though, is numb. Empty and utterly exhausted. From everything.

  But he tries, _god,_ he tries so hard not to be like that. He puts on a smile and tries to go on as though nothing is wrong. Dwelling on things has never gotten anyone anywhere, but it’s not working. He thought, he hoped that if he just ignores this dull, constantly growing, hollow feeling inside his chest it will simply go away. It didn’t. It doesn’t.

 

  There’s a knock on the door.

  “I’m making eggs, do you want some?” Rachel asks from the other side.

  “Sure, sounds great,” Blaine replies with a fake cheer. He even smiles even though she can’t see him. It’s a habit. That’s what he’s been doing lately, smiling fake smiles, saying fake words.

  “Okay, you have ten minutes,” she informs him.

 

  

  Blaine brushes his teeth and puts his things away before going to his room so he can get dressed.

  

  

  Room, however, is a generous description. Room implies a door with a lock – not a cotton curtain - and a window. What he has can be best described as an alcove. It is big enough to be compared to a small room, sure but that still doesn’t make it one.

 

  It was supposed to be just a temporary solution to a supposed temporary situation when he’d moved in with Kurt and Rachel back in August. He didn’t mind at first. He understood where Kurt was coming from. They went from not being together to being engaged to breaking the engagement to being sort of boyfriends all in a span of three months. It made sense that Kurt wanted them to take things slow. Until they could trust each other, that was the reason Kurt offered anyway; although it was clear who of the two had something to prove.

   But that was almost five months ago. And in that time Blaine went from understanding to being silently annoyed and frustrated to just being too tired to care.

  Now he doesn’t know what he wants.

  It’s a limbo that they’re stuck in, a place with no sense of direction, momentum or purpose. He is tired of the same conversations, sick of rehashing memories rewriting the past, pretending things are fine when they so clearly aren’t. Pretending didn’t mend anything. They are together again but there is still so much distance between them, so much of what shouldn’t be there, so much of something he can’t keep escaping.

  He doesn’t know what is keeping them together anymore.

 

  

  He searches the small dresser for a sweater. Some of his clothes are already packed for his trip home.

  

  

  He is relieved that the winter break is here. He is still hoping that the break is all he needs, just some time to regroup, to recharge his battery. The truth is he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he doesn’t manage to pull himself together.

  He wishes he could pause his life. Just for a little while. For a minute, an hour, or a day. Just a little time so that he can try and clear his mind, or go to sleep.

  He just wants to _breathe._

  

  This first semester was hell. He didn’t manage anything more than a C on any of his finals. And it might have shocked him - he is pretty sure that he’s never gotten anything below B in his life - if he hadn’t seen it coming weeks before the finals came around. He had trouble concentrating. He was unable to focus; nothing seemed to stick, words he read kept flying away from him, not attaching itself inside his brain. And the worst thing of all -- he seems to have lost the ability to write music.

  And that staggeringly terrifying loss has mired him in despair and quiet agony.

 

  Music always came easy to him, as naturally as breathing. There was hard work involved, of course, hours of practicing and writing, but it flew, without _thinking._ Music was always there, as much a part of him as anything else - blood or bones. Only true constant in his life. Now all of that seems to have disappeared.

  He feels empty, like he has nothing inside of him worth expressing, as if the very essence of him is gone. And even when he gets the feeling, or the idea he is unable to hold onto it long enough for it to become something more. Something lasting. Now all he has is just the memory, just the thought that there was a time when he had the ability, the talent. Something had absorbed and suffocated his creativity and his passions and left him with this terrible blankness and hollowness.

  He has never felt so lonely in all of his life.

 

 

  They - Kurt, Rachel and himself - are flying to Ohio the day after tomorrow, on twenty-third; that’s the plan anyway. The plane ticket is in his table drawer.

  Alongside another one.

  

  His grandmother sent him a round way ticket to Italy three weeks ago; the ticket is for the twenty-second - tomorrow - five p.m. flight. He was surprised, he’d always paid for the tickets himself - well, his parents did - so he couldn't help but wonder if she was trying to say something to him, something more than the obvious _I miss you, I haven’t seen you in a long time, come visit so you can tell me all about your life while I spoil you silly._ The last time he was in Venice was during winter break his sophomore year and the realization of how long it has been since he’s seen her makes him feel guilty for being such a bad grandson. He got so caught up in his life and in the process failed to keep in proper touch with the one person who knows him best of all; or at least she did.

  He didn’t tell anyone about the ticket.

 

   “Blaine!” Rachel calls him.

 

  The moment he steps outside the smell from the kitchen invades his nostrils and makes his stomach churn unpleasantly. He isn’t hungry; well, he probably is but when he sees the food spread out on the island he realizes he has no appetite.

  “Thanks, looks great,” he compliments with a smile.

  He read somewhere how it’s easier to smile than to frown; something about taking more muscles to form a later. That’s what he’s thinking while Rachel is smiling back at him and handing him a toast. He tries to ignore how gravity is again pulling on him.

  “Kurt went out while you were still in the shower. He said he has an errand to run but he’ll be back soon,” Rachel informs him.

  Isn’t it harder to hold something up then let it fall? That makes more sense to him.

  “Okay,” is all he says back and shoves a fork with eggs into his mouth - even though his stomach keeps constricting, rebelling against the idea of being filled - because he sees the way Rachel is looking at him, like she wants to ask him something or say something. But she doesn’t. She never does. All she offers sometimes is a small, soft, worried _Are you okay?_ and when Blaine answers with a too quick, too hurried to be honest _I’m fine_ she doesn’t press on.

  And he’s always relieved.

  Because he doesn’t know what he would say to her if he did decide to be honest. _No, I’m not okay_. _Nothing is okay_. _Everything feels wrong_. He doesn't know how to articulate the empty heaviness of it all.

  

  How do you explain what you don’t understand? How do you explain breathing but feeling like you’re suffocating? How do you explain that your heart doesn’t even pulse with the same beat anymore? That its sound is dull now; rhythm monotonous and befogged? How do you explain that you’re expanding with nothingness?

 

  

  “I’ll get it,” Rachel says and before Blaine can ask anything he sees her walking towards the front door; clearly there was a knock or a ring that he’s missed.

 

 

                                                        

**TBC**


	2. Part Two: Arising

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English is not my native language so I apologize for all and any grammar mistakes.

**PART TWO**

**ARISING**

  “Blaine!” Rachel calls for him. “That’s him,” she says to the older man - he looks to be in his early fifties - when she spots him.

  “Blaine Anderson?” the man asks in an uninterested voice.

  “Yes,” Blaine says confused and then the man is pushing a clipboard in front of him and handing him a pen.

  “I need you to sign here,” he says and points to the section on the paper.

  Blaine glances at Rachel quickly and catches her smile before signing his name.

  “You can start bringing it up,” the man says, talking into the small radio. “The elevator is working.”

  Blaine tries to think if he’d ordered something and then forgot about it but he’s pretty sure that’s not the case. He thinks his parents might have sent him something but why would they when he’s going to see them in two days. And besides, they always inform him if they’re sending something so he knows to expect it; the same with his grandparents, or Cooper.

  “I didn’t order anything,” he says to no one in particular. “Maybe there’s been a mistake,” he offers.

  The delivery man shrugs. “If you’re Blaine Anderson then there’s no mistake.”

  Rachel is leaning against the wall across from him and smiles widely. “Maybe you’re having a secret admirer,” she suggests rather excitedly.

  Blaine has to laugh at how preposterous the idea is, but he feels himself blush a little anyway. It’s because of the way she’s looking at him and he thinks maybe she knows something but when the two boys and a girl - around their age - start wheeling boxes into the apartment the look of pure bewilderment on her face tells him she is as much in the dark as he is.

  “Where should we put them?” one of the boys asks.

  “Oh, right --- Here is good,” Blaine says after a moment, pointing to the wall on the side of the door.

  

  They are red boxes - twenty six of them if his quick count is correct - bright red boxes. They’re not too big - twenty inches by thirty inches, he guesses - and they don’t seem _too_ heavy - if the way the boys and the girl are handling them is any indication. He searches for some kind of inscription or caption but he finds nothing like that. Just clean red boxes.

  He feels something jump inside of him.

  

  “Okay, thank you,” he says when they’re done unloading but before he can reach inside his pocket for some tip money the girl turns around quickly, startling him a little.

  “Oh, there’s more,” she announces, her voice a mix of mystery and excitement.

  “More?” Blaine gawks at her.

  She nods her head enthusiastically, practically bouncing on her feet. “Aha! Lots more!” and then follows two boys out of the apartment.

  He turns to look at Rachel and they share the look of confusion.

  Yet there’s a smile on his face. A real one.

  

  Before he knows it they’re back and wheeling in another set of boxes. Same in every way except these are green.

  

  And then comes another set.

  Blue.

 

  And another one.

  Yellow.

 

  And another.

  Purple.

 

  And one pink box - smaller than the others - at the end.

 

  With every set of boxes Blaine’s smile grows wider and wider. Something keeps jumping inside of him. Confusion turns to something else, something warm that causes him to laugh and chuckle and shake his head and shrug his shoulders and smile some more.  

  The feeling is spreading through him, filling him up until his chest tightens.

  But it’s different kind of tightness -- it’s feeling full with something pleasant and glowing and incredibly warm. It’s feeling light, lighter than he’s been in a long time.It’s being giddy. It’s feeling energy buzzing under your skin.It’s being awake.It’s feeling _alive_.

  The change is so _drastic_ , so sudden, so out of nowhere and it’s enough to make him dizzy.

  And all because someone sent him boxes.

  He doesn’t know who or why or even what’s inside of them; he can’t even begin to unravel that mystery, not now when he’s feeling so overwhelmed and so thankful. This could be a mistake for all he cares, the boxes can even be empty but it wouldn’t matter because he is _feeling_ something, he knows he is not dead inside after all.

  

  He takes a long look at this wall of boxes, at all the colors and another laughter escapes his throat.

  All of this is just so _ridiculous,_ so ---

 

  “Now that’s it,” the girl announces. She didn't stop smiling the entire time and she had a look in her eyes not unlike Rachel’s - amused and beyond curious.

  “Are you sure?” Blaine can’t help but tease. It feels good.

  Girl smiles again. “Yes I’m sure,” but then she adds “Can we see what’s inside?”

  “ _Alice!_ ” one of the boys scolds her but Blaine is already laughing.

  The girl - Alice - blushes and then apologizes shyly, “Sorry.”

  Blaine likes her, he thinks he would be like that as well if he were in her shoes.“It’s okay, I get it,” he assures her. “No worries.”

  “Okay, thanks. And --” Alice moves a little closer and whispers “You need to open the pink one first.”

  Blaine nods and then reaches inside his pocket for his wallet and gives them more than a generous tip - they deserved it - and few moments later he and Rachel are alone in the apartment. With one hundred and thirty-one - he counted - boxes.

 

                                                              

 ***

 

 

  “So, any clues? Ideas?” Rachel inquires.

  “None, “ Blaine says, shaking his head, still baffled, still giddy.

  

  Except he feels like he _should_ know.

  There’s something familiar about all of this, about the way his heart is beating now, fast and with a rhythm that he swears he _recognizes_ but can’t seem to place. His head is still dizzy and he has hard time holding onto thoughts but strangely his mind seems clearer than it’s been in months.

 

 “I should open them, right?” he asks.

  Rachel nearly shouts an excited and impatient “Yes!”

  He takes another long look at these colored cuboids. He soaks the craziness of it, the silliness, the ridiculousness. It’s all so startling, so heady. He feels tears. His eyes linger on the pink one and he remembers what Alice said, but he decides he wants to open that one in private; there’s obviously something special about it, maybe it holds answers to two biggest mysteries: _who_ and _why._

  He takes a few steps and places the pink box on the floor, a few feet away from the rest of them - for later.

  “Are you going to help?” he asks his friend, looking back at her.

  “Are you sure?”

  Blaine smiles and nods.

 

  

  “It’s sheet paper,” Rachel declares through a breathy chuckle what’s by now obvious to both of them.

  They opened fifteen or so boxes - all colors - and they are all filled with empty sheet paper. Rachel shoots him another bewildered look but all he can do is shrug. He has no idea but his smile is still real and big across his face.

  It’s odd though, he has no answers and in a way feels more confused than before but at the same time he can sense himself being _closer_ to something. Or maybe just closer to _someone._

 

  

  “What the hell is going on?”

  Blaine and Rachel were so engrossed with opening the boxes - they’ve managed to go through most of them, peeking inside, rearranging them - and chuckling and giggling that they’ve missed the fact that someone had entered the apartment.

  “Kurt!” Rachel exhales another chuckle, “You’re back!”

  Kurt glances at his boyfriend, obviously looking for an explanation but turns back to look at Rachel.

  “I’m just back to get the gifts. We decided to do them today,” he informs.

  “Oh, okay,” is Rachel’s short response. She keeps looking between her two friends.

  “So?” Kurt asks, “What’s with the boxes?”

  He doesn’t sound amused, not even a little bit, that’s what Blaine notices and a layer of nervousness washes over him. Pure excitement he was wearing just minutes earlier losing itself a little underneath.

  He wraps his arms around his torso on instinct. “I don’t know,” he says and it’s the truth. He can’t be more honest than that.

  “How can you not know?” he demands, still looking a little put out. He takes a few steps and pulls the lid off one of the boxes. “It’s just sheet paper.” He sounds completely unimpressed.

  

  Blaine feels something snap inside of him.

  He doesn’t care what Kurt thinks, not about this. Realization comes suddenly, leaving him with a foreign feeling but it is the honest feeling all the same. Even though he is still swimming in confusion, and even though it may be _just_ sheet paper he _loves_ it. All of it.

  From the moment all that _red_ had arrived - followed by _green_ and and _blue_ and _yellow_ and _purple_ \- he feels like he entered another universe, like in _The Twilight Zone_ or something. Another world much like his own but in this world he is smiling again and laughing and breathing and there’s colors all around him. It may all be a dream, of course but he doubts it. There’s no way he would be able to dream up something like this. Something so -- so out there.

  He stops himself. There’s this strange sense of familiarity again but different this time, like déjà-vu or something.

 

   “Oh, come on! Look at these! There’s just so _many_ of them,” Rachel tries to get Kurt on board and Blaine sees a small smile forming over the rim of his Styrofoam coffee cup.

  “Well, it is quite the sight,” Kurt allows.

  “I know, right?!” Rachel exclaims.

  Blaine is grateful for her attitude towards this but he wishes he was alone right now. Already he feels like this is the best thing anyone’s ever done for him and he wants to enjoy every second of it. Enjoy and savor and commit to memory.

 

  Blaine catches his boyfriend shooting him another look, look that reads suspicion, look that would usually cause him to feel guilty and make him retreat inside himself.

  But not today. Not now.

  Because something has changed. He feels something _is_ changing. Outside and inside of him.

  It is one of those moments that you can look back on and think _That, that’s when my life changed_ and Blaine can feel it even now; he is here, fully-present inside the moment, completely aware and with his eyes wide open. He isn’t gonna back down, he is not gonna fold in on himself and he definitely isn’t gonna go back to the person he was when he woke up this morning.

  This is _his_ and it’s perfect and he doesn’t want anyone to ruin it, not even Kurt. (Especially not Kurt.)

 

  “I told you, I don’t know,” he says firmly. He refuses to feel guilty about this.

  “Fine,“ Kurt says defiantly. And then his gaze shifts. “What about this one?” he points to the pink box before picking it off the floor and setting it on top of the rest of them.

  Blaine feels his heart speeding up. God, he so wishes he’s alone right now.

  “Oh, right, I forgot about that one,” Rachel says.

  Blaine doesn’t have a chance to respond or even react when Rachel says again, shouts almost “Kurt, you can’t! Blaine needs to open it!” and puts her hands on his as a way of preventing him to do what he started doing.

  “It’s okay,” Kurt says sweetly, “Blaine doesn’t mind. We don’t keep secrets from each other, right?”

  The words are said casually, like always, still they burrow deep, leaving him to stagger back a little, reeling as though he’d been hit; he should be used to it by now, and in a way he probably is. But it still hurts. He’s long stopped wondering if Kurt is even aware of how often he makes this kinds of comments, comments that do nothing but make Blaine’s guilt grow. And the effect is always the same, guilt twisting hotly in his stomach, in his chest.

  But not now though, now he rebels against it.

  Something is shifting inside him; bubbling, ready to burst. It’s like being silent for too long, swallowing and keeping things down until the moment comes when enough is enough and you feel like it’s impossible to be any more full with all those unsaid words.

  That moment is here – now.

 

  “Actually, I do mind,” Blaine says and is surprised how sure of himself he sounds. And Kurt must be surprised as well because he looks up at him, confusion clear across his face.

  Blaine expects the wave of guilt to wash over him but weirdly it doesn’t come.

  “Why?” Kurt demands, “What can possibly be inside that we can’t see? That _I_ can’t see?”

  “That’s not the point,” Blaine informs him, unyielding. “This all came for me and I would like to open at least some of it in private.” He glances at Rachel and smiles, just to let her know he didn’t mind her company. She nods and smiles back.

  He is all set to take the box and go to his room but the vibration of his phone inside his pocket halts his plan. He pulls it out and excuses himself.

 

  It’s Copper.

  He only needs to know if Blaine will need a ride from the airport when he comes home. However, since this is Cooper, a short conversation is almost impossible so Blaine lets him talk; about his latest auditions and the ones he has lined up for after the New Year.  He feels a little bad that he’s not giving him his full attention, but it’s hard to keep his mind away from this ridiculous, mysterious present currently occupying large section of the hallway.

  He can see Kurt and Rachel talking, he can see the colored wall of boxes and breathy laugh escapes him - not interrupting Copper’s ramble - because he can’t help it. Everytime he looks at _all_ of it he needs to shake his head in bemusement. It’s just so out there.

  

  There they are again. Those two words. Those words that sound so familiar, so oddly intimate. Those words he said before.

  He turns around a little and even tries to shut out his brother’s voice because he feels so close to figuring it out, so _close._ It’s almost here.

  So _out there  so out there  so out there  so out there  so out there._ He keeps repeating; those words a loop inside his head.

  And then it hits him.

   _Hard_.

  He instantly feels very light-headed. Heart hammering impossibly loud behind his ribcage. Head pulsing, ears ringing.

 

   _Sebastian._

 

  He tries desperately to wrap his head around it. _It can’t be. Can it? But why?_

 

  He has enough head space left to say goodbye to Copper with some excuse that he can’t even remember a second later.

  He turns around and sees Kurt lifting the lid off of the pink box and finds himself unable to react.  Everything is in slow motion, every second lasts an eternity until all of a sudden it speeds up again and they’re in the future.

 

  “You gotta be kidding me!”

  Kurt’s angry voice makes its way towards him but he can’t quite register it. He can’t think beyond _Sebastian Sebastian Sebastian._

  Kurt is glaring at him, he keeps glaring at him even when Rachel asks, confused “What?” He shows her a little piece of paper but whatever is written on it doesn’t make her confusion disappear. She smiles though, a mouth forming into a quiet squeal of _Aawwww._

Kurt huffs at that. “It’s Smythe,” he hisses.

  “Oh,” the realization sets in immediately and causes her to abruptly take one giant step backwards. It would be comical, except it isn’t. When Blaine glances at her he’s surprised to find no judgment in her eyes. She does however look very uncomfortable, probably wishing that she is anywhere else but here.

 “Well, don’t you have anything to say?” Kurt demands. “I didn’t know you two were all buddy-buddy again,” he spits out accusatorily, every word laced with sarcasm.

  Blaine feels rooted to the ground. He can’t feel his legs. If he tries to move just an inch he’ll come toppling down for sure.

  “We’re not,” he manages to say, more to himself than to anyone else. His voice is quiet, airy. He doesn’t understand why Sebastian would do something like _this_ , why when he hadn't seen or talked to him since -- since -- he stops himself. Abruptly. He has to because if he continues going down this particular memory lane the tears are bound to start falling. He already feels burning behind his eyeballs.

  “I don’t have time for this,” Kurt concludes and shoots Blaine another look, look that promises this will not be forgotten. Honestly, Blaine doesn’t care. “I’ll be late.”

  
  A minute or two later the front door slams shut. And then opens again when Rachel goes running after Kurt and the door slams shut again, more quietly.

 

 

***

 

 

  Blaine is alone.

 

  Except he’s not. There’s another person here with him and he can feel him. He can almost see him, standing on the side. He would probably smirk, amused by Blaine’s confusion. But then the smirk would turn into something more honest, a soft and sincere smile; sort of smile that reveals a person’s soul. Smile that Blaine had tried very hard not to see.

  He feels shivers along his skin and moves on his shaky legs so that he can see inside the box. There’s two envelopes inside - one big and one normal-sized - and one small note card. He picks it up. **_Don’t give up, killer_** _._ That’s what’s written on it and Blaine can’t hold the tears back any longer. He feels himself sliding to the floor, the card pressed tightly to his chest.

  

  How did he know? How could he have possibly known that this is what he needed? Blaine himself didn’t even know.

  

  He’s smiling and crying because it’s all so overwhelming. More than overwhelming because whatever he was feeling minutes ago is now multiplied by infinity, now that he knows _who_ of it all. There’s this incredible energy all around him. Warmth that is permeating his entire body, filling it up until it seems like it could burst out through his skin. He can’t remember if he’s ever experienced this kind of warmth. He feels himself being enveloped by it; like being bundled up with the softest, most comfortable blanket.

***

 

  

  He loses track of time moving boxes into his non-room. He knew not all of them will be able to fit inside the confined space but he is overflowing with the need to keep them close. (The rest, what hadn’t fitted in he arranged neatly beside the hallway wall; he’s also made a plan: he’ll rent a storage room after he comes back from Ohio and he’ll keep the boxes there.)

  He feels a little tired and there’s a small sheet of sweat covering his forehead but he doesn’t mind. Despite the fact that he’s feeling undeserving of it all he’s still brightened and uplifted.

  

  The small space is filled with boxes: under his bed, on the dresser, on the table, inside the closet, under the table, beside the bed, beside the table. One can hardly move and the place is bordering on being a serious health hazard but Blaine doesn’t care. It feels good, he thinks from his spot on the bed, being surrounded. It’s like forgetting there is anything else in the world.

  

  His life raft, that’s what this is.

  It’s knowing that he’s not alone, it’s a voice saying clear and loud _I’m here for you_. It’s hope and belief and a reminder that he’s still capable - capable of feeling and smiling and creating. He feels like every one of these boxes, every single piece of paper inside is a cheering voice, a helping hand. Thousands and thousands of voices raising him up.  

  It’s miraculous, almost. Outlandish and ridiculous, desperately needed and amazingly unexpected. And so _Sebastian._

  

  He should’ve known, shouldn’t he? That there is only one person who would do something so - yes, he smiles at the memory, so _out there_?

  

  But why, why would he do this crazy, beautiful thing for him? He should hate him, he shouldn’t even think about him; and he definitely shouldn’t be saving his life.

  There’s a pang inside his belly, a familiar twist inside his chest - twist of guilt and regret. Memories are coming at him and there’s no point in trying to stop them.

 

  Last time Blaine saw Sebastian was the day he asked Kurt to marry him. Last time he spoke to him was the day before.

  He cringes when he thinks about the things he said to him that day.

 

 

  “That’s a joke, right?”Sebastian cornered him when they were left alone in the common room. “You can’t possibly be serious,”he said. There was disbelief written all over his face. But panic started to quickly form in his eyes when he’d began to consider the other possibility: that Blaine was indeed being serious. There was panic and something else, something that caused Blaine to look at everything but those green eyes, something heavy that he was desperate to run away from.

  “Tell me how you really feel,”he joked.

  There was silence then, a thick, stifling silence.

  “I don’t think you could handle that,”Sebastian said, seriously and unbidden. He didn’t sound angry just sad.

  Blaine was unable to move, but he kept avoiding his gaze. Like he always did.

  “Right,”he laughed through an uncomfortable lump in his throat. He turned around, ready to end whatever this was turning into. He couldn’t deal with it, not when Sebastian was like this, open and sincere. The boy grabbed him by the wrist; not too tight but he still felt his fingers on his skin for hours after, days even; he can fill them now still. He didn’t have to look him in the eyes to know what he felt: Blaine wasn’t the only desperate one. They were just desperate for different things. Or perhaps for the same one: Didn’t Blaine want more than anything to be forgiven? Didn’t Sebastian want that same thing for him? Of course, Blaine didn’t know that at the time. The truth is, he didn’t want to know.

  “You cannot do it,”Sebastian pleaded. “God Blaine, you’re not even together! He’s with someone else. You can’t asks him to marry you because you can’t forgive yourself for --”

Blaine cut him off, yanking his arm from his grasp. “That’s not why I’m doing it,”he insisted.

  “Of course it isn’t,”Sebastian spat out sarcastically. He was hurt.

  “It isn’t,”Blaine insisted again, more fiercely, like Sebastian wasn’t the only person he was trying to convince.

  There was silence then; Sebastian kept looking at him and Blaine kept looking out the window.

  “He doesn’t love you, Blaine,”Sebastian said, voice quiet and gentle, a little urgent around the edges. “You deserve more. You deserve to be appreciated and respected.”Blaine felt something go all hot behind his eyes. “You deserve to be happy. _God_ , you deserve _everything,_ you -- “

  “I will be happy,”he interrupted impatiently, anxiously. He didn’t like the sound of his voice. _When we’re married,_ he didn’t say. But he didn’t have to.

  “No, you won’t.”

  It was how certain Sebastian had sounded that caused something inside of him to snap.

  “You don’t know anything! You don’t know anything about me or Kurt! You’re just a selfish asshole, why should I care what you think?”And then he raised his chin and looked into his eyes for the first time that day. “You don’t know _anything_ about love!”  

  The words spilled from him in an explosion of frustration, they twisted in bitter knives before he had time to measure their cruelness.

  The silence fell hard between them, heavy as hail. Sebastian averted his face. The sun shifted outside and Blaine could see how much his words had wounded him, stabbed and pierced, cut him open. _I didn’t mean it,_ he should’ve said, he wanted to say. He didn’t say. The tall boy kept blinking, uselessly trying to drive away the tears that were gathering in his eyes. Blaine was stunned, shocked by his own cruelty and by the look of raw hurt on Warbler’s face. Sebastian sniffled. It was a quiet sound but it went straight through him. The tall boy nodded then, a defeated nod. He swallowed thickly before taking another step, leaning down and whispering in his ear. Blaine could feel his breath, he could feel how wet his cheek was. He stopped breathing. “Don’t do it,”Sebastian said. _“Please.”_ The voice cracked in two. Something else cracked as well. Was it his heart? Or maybe it was Blaine’s.  

  And then Sebastian was gone.

  And Blaine was left with a bitter taste of regret stuck in his mouth, burning his throat. He felt he’d lost something. He had a terrible sinking feeling and something icy was moving up and down his spine. By the time he exited the Dalton building the earlier breezy wind had picked up strongly. His heart was pounding uncomfortably inside his chest. He felt himself shiver in foreboding.

  And although he’d cried that night the next morning he forced himself to forget; he ignored all the warnings: the drumming of the wind, the sound of blood rushing in his own head, the pleading look in Sebastian’s eyes.

 

  

  So why, why after all that would Sebastian ----

  Blaine breaks down, sobbing, shudders running through him.

  

  It’s not just about that one day. It’s weeks and months of stubbornly keeping his eyes closed, of refusing to _look_ at Sebastian, of hiding in the safety of avoidance, of ignoring, of lying to himself. He remembers keeping him at arm’s length, never allowing himself to come closer, ignoring the ever-present pull between them.

  

  Images are flashing before his eyes: his long fingers pressing against the guitar strings; a yellow paint smudges across his cheek and arms; face-breaking grins and whole-body laughs and the earnest look in his eyes. He can recall the smell of paint, the sound of his laughter and how the coffee with Courvoisier tastes. There are memories of his eyes crinkling, his face smirking, grinning. He remembers how they stuffed themselves on mangos one day in March. Never in his life had he had so much fruit in one sitting as he did in that one afternoon. He can recall the flavor of every bite, every piece. Deliciously sweet and so juicy. For days afterwards everything - chicken, mixed vegetables, pasta, chocolate, toothpaste, words - tasted like it had been marinated in mango nectar. He can recall sitting on the porch steps of his house talking to him. Always sitting down with a foot of distance, always ending with no space between them: knees touching, arms touching; thigh to thigh, elbow to elbow, shoulder to shoulder. He remembers the day when he saw that his green eyes have specks of blue in them. He remembers hearing him sing _Paint It Black,_ he remembers his heart fracturing.

  Is he surprised how much of Sebastian he’d buried deep inside? Is he startled to find out how aware he is now of all the feelings and memories, of how close they are? Is it surprising that even though he’d avoided things they still etched itself inside his mind, under his skin, and stayed with him?  

  

  He remembers his head falling on his shoulder, he remembers how comfortable he felt, how incredibly relaxed. He remembers watching his hand curl and uncurl, his fingers flexing to touch but stopping. He wanted nothing more in those moments than to feel their fingers intertwining together. He wished Sebastian would touch him, he wanted it so much that he could taste it, the need. He wished for it while at the same time preparing himself to pull away immediately, in case the other boy did decide to indulge. He was always ready to run away.

  Run away from the potential of them, from the moments and feelings, from the ever-growing attachment, from the unspoken that dangled between them.

  And if he did got caught up in the moment, if he allowed himself to be pulled in his reaction was always the same - distance. Real, measurable distance. No texts, no calls, no sitting across from each other in _Lima Bean_ or in _Little Venice_ , no hanging out. Just some poor, transparent excuses about homework and glee and clubs. Like that could set things in reverse. Like not seeing Sebastian for a few days would somehow negate what had already occurred. Nothing could untie those strings, those invisible, tangled ribbons between them.   

  Some things imprint themselves inside a person, don’t they? Without a permission, without knowing and they stay, permanently, no matter what.

 

  It is astounding to consider how many lies a person can tell, especially to themselves. Blaine had conditioned himself to look past the obvious, past the real, past the _here_ and the _now._ He kept his eyes shut and ignored everything that could steer him away from his path. That was all that mattered: fixing things, redeeming himself, going back.

  

  But Sebastian was right, wasn’t he? It was guilt. Guilt was that one thing driving everything; a hot, strangling thing beneath every action and every decision. There was no room for anything - anyone - else. Blaine was too consumed with regret.

  Guilt over one thing - one night, one bad decision, one mistake - mutated into guilt over everything. It was guilt beyond words: for being, for existing, for breathing. A monster, feeding on itself: the more you feel it the more it grows. A vicious, seemingly endless cycle.

  Seemingly, yes. Until today when it has started to break.

 

  

_God,_ is it really possible that Sebastian doesn’t blame him? That he understood? That he knew how lost he was, how desperate? Does he know that despite the appearances, despite constantly turning his head away he _did_ notice, he _did_ feel? Does he know he regrets all those awful things he said? That he can still taste them, burning.

  Why did he come that day, why did he sing? Was that _his_ penance? Watching the boy he liked make a mistake. Was that the punishment he thought he deserved? Being kept at a distance, being dismissed, never being given that second chance he’d asked for; the chance he kept asking for, silently, every day.

  Blaine feels himself burn with shame while the tears continue to fall.

 

 

***

 

 

  When Rachel walks inside the room she finds Blaine sitting on the bed, curled on himself: legs to his chest, head on his knees, arms around his legs. She maneuvers her way through the small, box filled space and sits on the bed next to him.

  “Are you okay?” she asks, concerned. Blaine doesn’t react until she puts a hand on his shoulder, startling him. His head shoots up and all he does is blink. He keeps blinking because there are still tears in his eyes, because it takes him a moment to bring himself back to the present.

  Rachel hugs him before he can answer. “Oh, sweetie,” that’s all she says at first and continues hugging him, tightly, in silence - only Blaine’s sniffles cutting through. “He really needs to stop doing that,” Rachel says after pulling away.

  Blaine shakes his head urgently and wipes his face with the back of his hand. “No, no Sebastian’s not ---”

  Rachel’s hand on his knee stops him. She smiles, shakes her head as well. She seems almost amused but then she’s serious “Not Sebastian. Kurt.” Blaine looks at her, brow furrowing in confusion. She smiles. “Guilting you. He needs to stop guilting you.”

  He’s been thinking about that as well even though he tried not to. What right does he have to resent _him_? Isn’t he the one in the wrong? Isn’t he the one that deserves to be punished? He’s confused, surprised and more than a little grateful to hear Rachel saying this to him.

  “I tried talking to him, more than once,” she continues. “I told him he’s hurting you. He should either forgive you or let you go, but this --” she pauses for a moment and Blaine sees in her eyes that she had noticed things, that she had noticed _him._ “But he doesn’t listen to me. I mean, you know how he is,” she adds at the end with another smile.

 

  

  Just two weeks after the proposal the reality had sat in. Hard. After the initial excitement and euphoria all of Blaine’s naive hopes - that if Kurt says yes everything else will fall into place - had turned into dust. And he immediately felt stuck. There was so much distance between them, that was the problem, a chasm of broken promises, regrets, rejected responsibilities. Everything was marred by mistrust and quiet suspicions. But they continued on the familiar path, path of dodging the issues, pretending they don’t even exist.

  Sebastian was right, Blaine remembers thinking. He wasn’t happy. And he felt himself going farther and farther away from it. He remembers how just the idea of happiness started to become something elusive and fleeting. He put all of himself in that one day and even though he’d considered the possibility of Kurt saying _No_ , he’d never thought of _this._ Of being with him and feeling lonely, of continuing to fall, losing all ground. There was no one to hold onto, nothing solid, nothing real. The guilt was still there though. Beneath his skin, eating at him, pressing, suffocating. Nothing had changed. But he kept smiling, of course he did. He wasn’t gonna give up, was he? They just needed some time, time to reacquaint themselves with one another; just a little time, that’s all.

  

  

  “I’m sorry,” Rachel says after few moments, “I was a bad friend. I saw how miserable you were, but I just ---” she pauses and Blaine is surprised to see tears gathering in her eyes. He shakes his head and takes hold of her hand. “-- I guess I hoped that things would work out, you know. But now -- I guess sometimes things don’t fit and you can’t make them no matter how much you try,” she says thoughtfully.

 

  The reality is this: they don’t see each other, they don’t hear each other. They don’t know each other. It’s as simple as that.

 

  “It’s okay,“ Blaine assures her. “You weren’t a bad friend. You -”

  Rachel cuts him off. She smiles. “Yes, I was but not anymore. Kurt is my best friend, but you’re my friend too and I let myself forget that.” She hugs him again then pulls away, stretching behind him and handing him a box of tissues from his little nightstand. “You need it,“ she teases. “And you should probably let go of this note before it crumples completely.”

  Blaine looks at his right hand and the small paper note he’s still clenching. He pulls it out of and tries to smooth it over. He snatches the book from underneath his pillow - _Ian Rankin, Black and Blue;_ that’s what he’s been reading, _Inspector Rebus_ series, Sebastian’s favorite - and places the note between the pages.

  He can feel Rachel watching him, studying him.

  “You weren’t crying about Kurt.” It isn’t a question and Blaine feels nervous all of a sudden. “This is about Sebastian,” another non-question but Blaine nods anyway, still nervous. He doesn’t want Rachel to make the wrong assumptions, jump to conclusions. She must sense his worries though because she smiles as a reassurance - she isn’t gonna judge.

  He smiles back.

  “Did you go through it?” she nods towards the pink box. Blaine shakes his head. “Well, what are you waiting for?” she asks enthusiastically.

  He chuckles. “Just give me a minute, I need to splash some water on my face.”

 

 

***

 

  

  Inside the bathroom Blaine takes a good look at himself in the mirror. A really good look and is startled to realize that he can recognize himself again. Beneath the mess that he currently is - eyes bloodshot, face puffy, nose a little red, hair that has come ungelled in few places - he can see _himself_ and it’s the most incredible feeling.

  

  He thinks about Kurt. He thinks about that day in August, the day when he moved to New York.     

  During the entire plane ride he was trying to see him in the light he once did but he couldn’t. No matter what he did, whatever he tried - for days, weeks, months afterwards - it just wasn’t there anymore. Everything felt off, wrong in some deep, final way. His hands on his arm, his kiss, his touch, the look in his eyes. It was disheartening, the whole thing. And he tried not to think about it, he tried because he didn’t know what else to do. But that’s what they did, wasn’t it? What they’re best at? Ignoring the problems, sweeping them under the rug, cramming them inside the closet.

  He can’t do that anymore. To himself, to Kurt. He is drained from trying to feel what has long faded away. He doesn’t love him anymore, that’s the truth. On most days he doesn’t even like him if he’s being completely honest.

  He is exhausted from all the pretending. From trying to bring back what is gone. He understands now what can happen if you ignore things for too long: they eat you up inside; they make you run away, from everybody else and especially from yourself.

  He doesn’t blame Kurt; it is his fault as well, he let himself become this way.  

  He thinks about Kurt and he knows what needs to be done. He made a decision and it hurts less than he ever thought it would.

 

 

 ***

 

  

  When he returns from the bathroom he finds Rachel standing beside his dresser, one of his _Spider-Man_ boxing gloves on her hand. She turns around and grins.

  “I snooped,” she explains, raising her gloved hand. “Sorry,” she smiles but she’s still grinning. “These are cool.”

  Blaine laughs. “It’s okay, it’s not like I’m hiding them. And yes, they are cool.”

  He carefully makes his way towards her mindful of all the boxes. He grins, he really overdid it; the place is crammed full.

  “Where did you get them?” she asks.

  He smiles. “Sebastian gave them to me.”

  She grins again and then giggles. “Of course he did.”

 

  

  Gloves were a birthday present. And to say that Blaine was blown away would be an understatement. They're not only silly but the leather is top quality with perfect padding. There was also a note enclosed: **_Happy birthday, killer. Knock ‘em dead!_** Blaine had laughed at the duality of the gift because it was more than just a birthday present, it was a good luck thing as well, since he had his college auditions the week after. He remembers being happy and _letting_ himself be happy, for once. He hugged the Warbler and kissed him on the cheek blushing immediately but then he saw that the boy next to him was blushing as well. He looked beautiful. He remembers not running away, allowing himself to just _be_ , to stay inside the moment.

  He’d placed the note inside his wallet and he never took it out. It’s still there.

 

  

  “Is it me or are they actually functional? I mean, they seem crazy comfortable,” she says, obviously enjoying the feel of the glove around her hand.

  Blaine smiles. “They are. The quality is amazing.”

  “Do you know where he got them?”

  “No,” he laughs. “He refused to divulge that particular information.”

  Rachel laughs as well and takes the glove off and puts them away where she found them - top drawer of the dresser. She picks up the framed photograph and sits on the bed.

  “Look at you,” she says. “You were fearless.”

  Blaine sits on the bed beside her and looks at the photograph. It’s a picture of him with the Warblers, from his sophomore year, before he met Kurt. He doesn’t know why he chose to put this picture on display, but he did. Maybe for the same reason Rachel just mentioned, maybe he knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he needed a reminder that he’d had a life before Kurt, that he’d been _someone_ before Kurt.

  “And actually quite cocky,” Rachel adds, chuckling.

  Blaine laughs. “You’re right, I was.”

  Would he have had the same reaction if she told him tht weeks ago? Yesterday? This morning? Or a minute before the doorbell had rang? Before his room was jam-packed full of bright-colored boxes? He doubts it.

  Rachel looks at him quizzically, amused.

  “What?” he asks, smile tugging at his lips.

  “Nothing, it’s just nice to see you like this.”

  He nods. “It feels nice as well.” He shrugs then and reaches for the pink box, hesitates for a moment.

  “I can go if you --- I mean, you said earlier --”

  “No, it’s okay.” And it’s an honest answer. He doesn’t mind her company, not when she’s so understanding, so open-minded.

  He carefully pulls the big envelope first - green and thick, to the point of bursting with its content - turns it around in his hand and laughs at the writing: **_It doesn’t bite. I might, but the envelope doesn’t_** followed by **_;)_** _._ He opens it, turns it upside down and brochures start falling out and into his lap. Brochures for all kinds of music programs, summer camps - domestic and international.  

  “Wow,” Rachel says, dumbfounded and impressed.

  “I know,” is all he can manage, voice losing itself beneath all the feelings that are engulfing him.

  They go through them and quickly it starts to feel like there isn’t a program or a camp in the world that Sebastian didn’t include. _Wow, indeed._ He can’t help but shake his head, his heart is beating noticeably inside his chest.

  He is reading about a summer program in San Francisco when Rachel nudges him, handing him a bluish/greenish booklet and his heart speeds up even more. He recognizes it immediately. _CMCC_ program in Paris. There’s a yellow post-it note attached to it and only ** _;)_**  written on it. He remembered. Well, of course he did, he should really stop being surprised by how well the boy knows him, how much attention he’d always paid to everything he said, everything he did and especially to everything he didn’t say; even way back when they first met, when it seemed like Sebastian didn’t take anything seriously.

 

  

  Blaine was in seventh grade when he learned about the _CMCC_ and instantly he knew it was the perfect program for him: acceptance of students from all around the world, equal emphasis on classical and contemporary music, inclusion of technology as well as old-school techniques, wide range of workshops, experienced and accomplished teachers and mentors; emphasis on cooperation, diversity, exchange of ideas.  And, to top it all off, it was in _Paris._ Safe to say, Blaine was in love.

  When he finally became eligible to apply the timing couldn’t have been worse. It was his freshman year, he’d gotten out of the hospital only three months prior and he knew there was no way his parents were going to let him go to Europe, alone, for two months.

  Next year though he finally applied, all excited and anxious; he worked for weeks on his application, the Warblers were helping him and Wes especially took it as his own personal mission to get Blaine to Paris. And he did get in. But then Kurt had happened and everything else fell in the background, lost beneath this new, ecstatic, love-induced haze. He’d completely forgot about the confirmation date until a week after but he didn’t care. There will be plenty of opportunities, right? Plenty of summers? What is a music program compared to finding the love of his life?

  When time had come to apply again he didn’t even truly considered it. He was too worried what will happen with him and Kurt when he goes to New York. And besides, he wasn’t going to go to Europe for two months when their time together was so limited.

  Last year he forgot about it completely. Like he’d forgot about anything that didn’t have something to do with Kurt.

 

  

  “I’m guessing from the smile on your face and this little post-it note that this is your dream program,” Rachel surmises.

  “Yeah, definitely.”

  Rachel is about to say something else but the sound of something hitting the floor and breaking stops her. She knocked the photograph when she’d uncurled her legs. “Sorry,” she says and bends down to pick it up; the photo frame is broken all right.

  Blaine swallows hard because he knows his secret has been revealed. Behind the Warblers photo are four hidden ones: Blaine and Sebastian shaking hands after the Regionals - a photo he printed out from the video Jeff’s parents had recorded; picture of him with the Warblers that day he went to Dalton with the tickets for the _West Side Story -_ the day he met Sebastian; photo of the two of them outside _Lima Bean,_ taken a month after on Sebastian’s insistence and with his phone by some random stranger - Sebastian had said he needed a visual proof of their height difference, a proof he ended up forwarding to Blaine later that day; and a picture of Sebastian from this spring, when he cut of his hair - something about lost bet, Blaine never got a full explanation - and it was Blaine this time who insisted about having a proof - proof of what though, he didn’t dare to guess.

  Rachel examines them and Blaine holds his breath, bracing himself for something.

  “I think you owe me an explanation.” Blaine is so nervous he completely misses Rachel’s teasing voice. She laughs. “I’m kidding,” she assures him.

  “Oh,“ Blaine feels himself release a breath. “I just - I -” He doesn't know what to say.

  “I’m not judging, okay? I promise. I mean, let’s be honest, I probably would’ve last year. I probably would’ve been skeptical even this morning but now -- I mean how could I? You were like a zombie for months and now -- now you’re eyes are actually shining.”

   He thinks he’s blushing. He is fully aware of the change that had happened inside of him but he didn’t know it was that noticeable.

  “Thanks,” Blaine says, “I really appreciate it, you know, you being open-minded about him, I know it’s not easy.”

  She chuckles, “No, but it’s definitely easier now.”

  He looks at the pictures and then at Rachel. “I didn’t give him a chance, not really,” he confesses. “I was so wrapped up in my own problems I -- I don’t understand why he would do this for me, why he doesn’t resent me. I mean, I would understand if he did.”

  Rachel giggles and that is not the reaction Blaine expected. “Sorry,” she apologizes quickly. “But it’s pretty clear why he did it.” He just looks at her. “Because he’s crazy about you.” Blaine is definitely blushing now. “And he definitely doesn’t blame you for _anything_.”

  “How can you know that?” Blaine can’t help it. Sometimes he’s more pessimistic than anyone would ever guess - especially when it comes to him to what _he_ deserves.

  Rachel laughs again. “You’re kidding, right? I mean, look at these,” she points to the boxes in the room and then to all the brochures splayed on the bed between them. “If this isn’t the proof I don’t know what is.”

  Blaine looks around the room. Rachel is right, she has to be. It is the proof. Crazy, beautiful, ridiculous, incredible, colorful, glorious proof.

  “You’re right,” he nods.

  “Of course I am.”

  He takes the photos in his hand and looks at them.

  “You know, he told me about every bad thing he’d done, about every mistake he’d made and he never offered excuses even though I’m sure the reasons exist,” he says after few moments of silence. Rachel is sifting through the brochures but then she looks up at him again. “He even told my _parents_ everything and -- and he gave me the tape,” he adds, carefully gauging her reaction.

  “Oh,” Rachel says and the double meaning is more than clear. _Oh_ for the surprise and _Oh_ for the resurgence of the forgotten memory.

 

   

  Blaine came home from school one day only to find out that Sebastian had talked to his parents, that he’d told them the entire truth about the slushie - about the rock salt, about not intending to hurt anyone, about his father’s role in making sure it all stays locked away. He couldn’t understand why Sebastian had done that, why when it was all behind them. Perhaps it wasn’t.

  Later that day, when they were sitting on the porch, Sebastian had put a small tape recorder in his hand and swallowed dryly. “Just press play,”he told him. Blaine had been shocked, stunned, completely taken aback but then he started to feel it, something biting at him, sharp and sour. After a long long moment he exploded. “Where did you get that?! And why are you giving it to me? Now?”he demanded, shaking slightly.

  “Hummel,”Sebastian said simply. “And I’m giving it you because I’m trying to --”

  Blaine cut him off. He understood then, suddenly, what that thing rising inside of him was. Resentment and bitterness. He was angry, but not at Sebastian; no. He was angry at his ex-boyfriend. He felt betrayed, robbed of something, but since being mad at Kurt was an unthinkable response, a forbidden reaction - a self-induced condition - it was Sebastian on whom he vented his frustrations, his hurt. “Why do _you_ have it?”

  Sebastian didn’t miss the accusatory implication. “He gave it to me.”

  “Why would he do that?”Blaine demanded with an uneasy feeling in his stomach; maybe it would be better not knowing but he pressed forward. “What did you do?”came out the harsh insinuation. It had to be something Sebastian did, right? A blackmail, a threat? It had to be him because otherwise ---

  “I didn’t do anything. He and all your supposed friends sold you out!”Sebastian had stood up, voice harsh and hurt.“They traded the tape for Michael-fucking-Jackson!”the tall boy laughed; dry, mirthless laugh. “So, yeah, I’m the asshole who put you in the hospital and faced no consequences but they took the choice away from you! For a fucking show-choir competition!”

Everything Sebastian had said was true but he couldn’t deal with it; there was too much truth there: about Kurt, about himself, about his friends, about Sebastian. So he’d pushed it to the back of his head and spat out instead, “Don’t pretend like you didn’t benefit from it. You could’ve given the tape to me then but you didn’t. You didn’t care about me so don’t act like you did. All you cared about was what will happen to you! You got away with it and ---”

  “Of course I cared what happens to me. Excuse me if I didn’t want to be expelled or charged with assault. But if you think I got away with anything then _\---“_ he’d paused and shook his head almost unnoticeably before he closed his eyes and inhaled a breath. “What I did to you -“he’d  continued and looked straight into his eyes. Blaine felt something constricting painfully inside of him. “- that never goes away.”Sebastian’s voice was low yet there was no hiding how raw he’d sounded. Blaine nodded, unable to do anything else. Sebastian had hesitated for a moment and then sat back down next to him. “I know you understand that, how some things -- how they can haunt you.”

  Tears had gathered in Blaine’s eyes. “I’m sorry,”he said, understanding; they were struggling with the same conditions: guilt and regret. “I don’t even care about the tape. I mean, it doesn’t matter, I wouldn’t -“Sebastian had curled his fingers around his wrist, tentatively and then pulled away, too quickly. Blaine swallowed down the disappointment.

“Don’t say again how you forgave me, I know you didn’t.”

“I did, I swear --- I’m sorry,”Blaine had tried to convince the boy next to him but he didn’t hear him.

  “One day maybe,”he’d said, equal part hopeful and wary, and then he stood up, walking away.

  “Sebastian -”Blaine had called after him even though he didn’t know what else to say.

  “It’s okay,”Sebastian said with a small, sad smile on his face. “I get it, I really do so don’t worry about it.”He’d started to walk away and then he turned around again and winked, “I’ll see you around, killer.”

Blaine had stayed on the porch until the night fell. He never talked to Kurt about the tape.

 

  “I’m sorry,” Rachel says, “about the tape, I mean, I --”

  Blaine shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Maybe not, but I do feel bad. We should’ve given it to you. It was supposed to be your decision.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate that. But I mean it when I say it wouldn’t have mattered. I knew it was an accident so it’s not like I would’ve used the tape as a proof of something, but I do wish I knew about it.” Rachel nods, understanding and takes the photos from him. “I just couldn’t understand why _he_ wanted to bring all that up.”

  “And now?” she asks thoughtfully, glancing up from the pictures.

  “He wanted to redeem himself. He just wanted a chance, a real chance you know? An honest one and I didn’t give it him. I was so unfair.”

 

  Blaine did forgive him, he truly did. Yet he understands now why Sebastian thought otherwise. Forgiving, apparently _,_ didn’t stop him from using it as a buffer of sorts, a wall between them. He used Sebastian’s mistakes as barricades every time he’d felt himself moving _closer._ It was just easier to think of Sebastian as an arrogant, gorgeous, flirty guy who hurt him then really consider what his real self is like, who he is deep inside.

  Sebastian wanted to be _known_ , simple as that. He just wanted to be somebody better. He understands that now. That’s why he talked to his parents, that’s why he gave him the tape. And it was already happening, right before his eyes; before his closed eyes.

 

  Rachel studies the photographs. “I guess it does take a lot to own up to the mistakes you’ve made. Not anyone can do that.” Before Blaine has time to say or ask anything she quickly adds “I’m not talking about you.” She's eyeing him carefully. “You do know you’re not the only one to blame, right? For what happened between you and Kurt?”

  “I’m starting to realize it, yes” he answers honestly.

  “Good,” she says, “Because you deserve to be happy.” Blaine smiles. How many times did Sebastian told him that last year? “I’m not the first person to tell you this, am I?” Blaine grins and shakes his head and Rachel looks at the photos again. “Does he have a brother? A straight one?” He laughs, he has to. “What?” she demands with a grin.

  “Nothing, it’s just surreal that we’re talking about Sebastian, I mean --”

  She cuts him off. “Trust me, I know. But I don’t really know him do I? And besides, we all did things we wished we hadn’t. It was high school. The land of self-absorption,” she jokes at the end. He laughs and she studies him again. “You really miss him, don’t you? I mean, you’ve _been_ missing him?” she asks, half teasing, half serious.

  

  Yes, he has been missing him. He does miss him.

  Soon after that day in early May things started coming at him, feelings and moments; regret. But what could he have done? He knew he hurt him, he knew it even then. He wanted to say _I’m sorry_ , he wanted to call him, or text him; he wanted to laugh at his comments or talk about nothing for hours, he wanted to say _I miss you._ He wanted to but he didn’t.

  The more time had passed the more he missed him; the more he’d missed him the more the fear inside of him grew. Was it a fear of Sebastian being angry at him? No. He could deal with that. What he was sacred of is Sebastian forgetting about him. Finding out that he’s been put in a tightly tied up box labeled _past mistakes, don’t open_ and buried.

  Yes, he missed him.

  He misses him.

  He missed him almost as much as he missed himself.

 

  “There’s no point in denying, you know,” Rachel teases.

  “I wasn’t going to but how did you -”

  She giggles. “The sweatshirt is kind of a dead giveaway.”

  He looks down on himself and blushes. He’s wearing Sebastian’s Dalton hoodie; he’d put it on before he started moving boxes. When he glances back up at Rachel she’s looking quite amused.

  “Oh, shut up!” He grins. He puts his arms around himself, to press the sweatshirt closer; there’s no point in denying the comfort he feels when he’s wearing it, the closeness. He could swear it still smells like Sebastian even though he knows that’s impossible since he washed it more than couple of times since that day in February.

  “What? It looks good on you,” she comments playfully, eyes actually swimming with innuendoes.

  “Nothing like that happened,” he assures her.

  “Oh, I know,” she giggles again. “If it did you wouldn’t be able to ignore what you obviously felt all along.”

  He chuckles. “I don’t know, my denial ran pretty deep.”

  She shrugs and says, eyeing him knowingly, “I guess it’s true what they say, things happen when you’re not looking.”

 

  It was an act of self-preservation; all that denying, all that quelling and suppressing. But Rachel is right, despite all the sabotage and all that self-induced blindness there was a place Blaine couldn’t run from: the center of him, the core of who he is, what he feels deep inside. Inescapable, inexorable, unavoidable truth.

 

  Rachel hands him the second envelope; this one is normal-sized, not too thick. He hesitates again and chuckles. “I don’t know if I can handle more surprises.”

  “Well, this doesn’t seem like something big so you should be good,“ she says with a smile.

  Inside the envelope is a piece a paper with an address written on it - the Upper East Side address - and a map of New York.

  A breathy laugh escapes him. “I have no idea but I don’t think it’s something small,” he says when he looks at Rachel.

  “Well, only one way to find out,” she says, takes his hand and drags him off the bed.

 

 

***

 

 

  They’re standing in front of the red-bricked building on East 78th Street, hesitating.

  “Maybe you should go alone,” Rachel suggests, “what if he’s waiting for you, naked or something?”

  Blaine laughs, and blushes. The idea of the boy naked gets him all flustered.

 

  

  His imagination never has to work hard to conjure up that image; he saw him shirtless a few times and one glorious time he witnessed Sebastian in only his boxer briefs. It is difficult to tell how long he’d stared at him, stunned by all those lean muscles, all those long limbs, legs that go on _forever_ \- it could've been just seconds really - but the image implanted itself inside his mind. Image that haunts him, at night, when he’s alone, when his hand is wrapped around his cock, stroking. Those moments, those nights never start with Sebastian behind his eyelids but it is him that he sees when he comes, hard; it is his name on his lips.

  Just one more secret, one more proof of an attachment: the note stored inside his wallet, torso swimming inside the sweatshirt, memory of fingers tucking a loose curl, gasps of desire in the night; the way he reads his favorite books, the way he listens _Paint It Black_ or _Glad You Came_ on repeat, the way he feels his absence like an open wound, raw and ever-present.

 

  

  “I mean,” Rachel continues and smirks, “that is so something he would do.”

  Blaine laughs, still blushing. He shakes his head, “Come on.” They can’t keep standing here. It’s freezing.

  Two concrete steps up the building and a little girl - no more than six, seven years old - runs past them. Outside the door the girl rings the bell and asks, “Are you here for Miss. Fordyce too?”

  Blaine and Rachel exchange a confused look. “I don’t think so,” Blaine replies even though he has no idea whom they are here to see.

  “Oh,” the little girl’s face falls a little before it lights up again a second later. “She’s the best!”

  It’s then that Blaine notices that the girl is carrying a violin case. He nudges Rachel and asks quietly, “A music teacher?”

  Rachel shrugs but then grins and whispers back, “I guess no naked Sebastian then.”

  A chuckle bursts out and he elbows his friend.

  “Maddie, come on in,” a young woman in her early thirties greets.

  “Good afternoon,” the girl greets back before disappearing inside the house.

  “May I help you?” the woman asks.

  “I don’t know, actually,“ Blaine replies, feeling completely lost. He has no idea how he is supposed to explain what he’s doing here. “I got a note from a friend of mine and ---”

  “Oh, yes, come in,” the woman cuts him off, smiling. “Mom! He’s here!” she shouts.

  Blaine exchanges another befuddled look with Rachel. His heart is again thumping against his ribcage, wishing it had more space, and he’s almost shaking from the nervousness, from the excitement.

  “Blaine Anderson?” and older looking woman asks when she enters the hallway.

  “Yes,” he replies.

  “It’s really nice to meet you, I’m Mrs. Fordyce,” she introduces herself and extends her hand. “I’ve been expecting you.”  

  “Oh.” Blaine is fully aware how dumbfounded he sounds, probably looks that way as well but he manages to remember his manners. “Nice to meet you as well. And this is my friend, Rachel Berry.”

  Mrs. Fordyce shakes Rachel’s hand. “I’ve been told you might bring someone with you.” She smiles, and Blaine observes that this beautiful, sophisticated woman actually looks amused, there’s genuine glint of what could only be described as mischief in her eyes. “Well, come on, follow me.” Blaine is too busy feeling dazed and trying to snap himself out of it that he completely missed the look of stunned shock on Rachel’s face.

  “Do you know who that is?” Rachel grabs his hand and whispers urgently while they’re climbing the stairs.

  “No, should I?”

  “ _Yes!_ ” her eyes almost bug out. Blaine has to laugh at the expression on his friend’s face. “She was a ballerina, like _the_ ballerina and now she’s one of the best choreographers in the _world_.” Rachel explains in one breath, still whispering.

  “Oh. Wow.” Really, what else could he say?

  “I know!” There’s no hiding her excitement.

  “Here we are,” Mrs. Fordyce announces when they reach the third and final floor. She takes the keys out of her pocket and unlocks the heavy wooden double door.

  Blaine stops breathing. His heart is ready to jump out of his chest. There’s a tingling sensation behind his knees. “Try not to faint,” Rachel says.

   _I don’t think I can promise that,_ Blaine would say if he still had a power of speech. He’s too overwhelmed, ready to burst from all the brilliant, delightful sensations.

  This is what he sees: all dark wood and big, airy windows; shelves and cabinets, dark burgundy red leather sofa, coffee table, working table, chair, a stool; the painting on the wall; and the grand black ebony piano. He can’t breathe, he truly can’t. Sebastian is trying to kill him, that’s what’s happening.

  He turns around to look at Mrs. Fordyce, he looks at her because he wants to say _I don’t understand,_ he wants to ask _What_ and _Why_ but the words just refuse to come out. The older woman seems to understand his struggle though and smiles. “This is yours,” she explains.

  “All of it?” Rachel asks bewilderedly, giving a voice to Blaine’s scrambled thoughts. “Like his his?” Not even she seems capable of being articulate at the moment.

  Mrs. Fordyce laughs. “Yes.” She walks inside the room, opens a drawer on the side of the coffee table and hands Blaine an envelope. ”I’ll leave you for a while.”

 

  He needs to sit down.

  

  The sofa is sinfully comfortable, that’s what he’s thinking and it’s the first put together thought he managed since the door opened. He runs his hand against the leather, against the wooden table in front of him. It’s real, all of it is _real_.

  Rachel giggles from behind the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that are dividing the large room, so he gets up and rounds the wooden divide. She is crouching down next to the mini refrigerator; next to it is a table cabinet with a coffee machine, a Dalton mug and bowl with little bags of sugar and packets of cream. Rachel stands up and he can see that the fridge is full of juice boxes and puddings. He laughs and Rachel hands him one - orange flavored. “You look like you need it.” He doesn’t hesitate for a moment, he stabs the straw through the small bright-hued carton and starts slurping the sweet liquid.

  She sniggers. “He really knows you.”Blaine rolls his eyes but his lips are stretched into a smile around the straw. “Feeling better?” she asks teasingly, “able to talk?”

  “I’m not sure,” he admits and throws the empty juice box into the trash. “I’m starting to think this may be a dream, some heavy drug-induced dream.” Rachel moves next to him and pinches his arm. “Auugh!” he exclaims in slight and sudden sting of pain.  

  “No, not a dream, you’re wide awake. Although I can understand why you would think otherwise. I mean, _I’m_ speechless! What do you say to – _this!”_ She uses her hands to emphasize the point and then opens a few cabinets on the far side of the wall. “More sheet paper,” she says through a chuckle and then rounds her way back again and Blaine follows her. He looks at the folders on the shelves, so many of them, labeled: modern and classical sheet music for piano, guitar and violin. “Wow,” Rachel says, once again voice to his thoughts. He turns around and stops, then moves a few steps before stopping again, looking at the wall behind the sofa where the painting is hanging. He feels his pulse vibrating on the side of his neck, trying to leap out through his skin.

  “That’s _Chagall,_ right?” Rachel asks. He nods, dazed. “Let me guess, your favorite?” she grins. Blaine nods again. He keeps looking at the painting, _Le Cirque bleu._ He remembers telling him how he likes Chagall’s paintings, the colors, the floatiness and gravityless in them, like anything is possible. He can almost feel Sebastian standing next to him, he swears he feels their arms brushing. He shivers in longing and his eyes start to sting a little. “Do you think it’s an original?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I wouldn’t surprise me if it is,” she concludes.

  Blaine moves to sit at the piano and Rachel sits beside him. His heart is racing, everything is heightened and wondrous. Remarkable, unbelievable yet very _real_. He moves his fingers over the lid, enjoying the feel of the wood, calming his racing thoughts. He lifts it and shouldn’t be surprised by yet another note but he is. **_Stop overthinking_** _._ He laughs but then he notices it, on the inside of the lid, in the left corner - a _Batman_ sticker.

  “I’m going to kill them,” he announces through a disbelieved laugh and jumps from his seat.

  “What?” Rachel asks and gets up as well.

  “This is _my_ piano.” How did he missed that? His piano, his bench.

  “What?” Rachel asks again. “Wait -- so he had your piano shipped here? From Ohio? That means your parents knew, right?”

  “Right, I mean I can’t believe they didn’t say anything, I didn’t even notice anything strange when I talked to them. I mean, my mom is incapable of keeping a secret --- “

  “Well, I’m guessing they didn’t want to ruin a surprise and let’s be honest, you were kinda out of it, you probably wouldn’t have noticed if they were jumping in front of the screen when --” she’s cut off when Blaine swats at her arm.

  “Funny.” He smiles and they sit back down on the piano bench. He fiddles with the keys, running little scales and breaths: in and out, in and out, in and out. He closes his eyes. “How will I ever thank him for this? There’s just no - no way to --” Rachel nudges him and he opens his eyes only to see her holding Sebastian’s note and nods at the words: **_stop overthinking_** _._ “Easier said than done.”

  She stands up and after a few seconds she’s handing him the envelope, momentarily forgotten on the coffee table.

  

  This is what Sebastian wrote: **_You’re still over thinking. Stop. No really, stop. You don’t owe me anything. I owe you and this was my way of saying thank you. Of paying forward or back or whatever. You made me wanna be better and hopefully I am. You saved me, Blaine Anderson  - and apparently turned me into a cheese-ball. So - thank you. And if that doesn’t seem like enough of the reason then think of all of this as one giant present: for every birthday, for every success you’ll celebrate, for graduation, for engagement - I still think you’re an idiot but --- No hard feelings. Just - be happy, that’s all._**

**_Sebastian_ **

**_P.S. Your parents are awesome. I actually heard them warning Cooper to keep his mouth shut. Priceless._ **

****

****

***

 

 

  Blaine flings himself on the sofa next to Rachel. His cheeks are tear stained but he’s grinning foolishly, holding a letter tightly to his chest.

  “You okay?” the brown-haired girl asks smiling.

  Blaine nods and shakes his head and shrugs and grins all at the same time before his face turns more serious. “He doesn’t know we’re not getting married,” he informs his friend.

  “You and me?” Rachel jokes. “Well, think how surprised he’ll be when you tell him you two actually broke up.” Blaine looks at her wide-eyed. “Come on, it’s obvious what needs to happen.” 

  “I don’t want to hurt him but I can’t lie to myself anymore. I --”

“I know, and I understand, I really do,” she assures him, smiles and changes the subject. “You know, one can actually live here. Look!” she laughs and shows him a blanket.

  Blaine looks around the room. This is much more than just a music room, it’s certainly more homey than the space he has in Brooklyn. He grins. That’s what Sebastian has given him -- a piece of New York that is just _his_ ; a place to create, to hide, to be. He grins again, holds the letter even tighter and another tear rolls down his cheek. “He’s crazy.”

  “Crazy about you,” she corrects him.

  Blaine blushes. “That’s not what this is about.” Still, he hopes, wishes that Rachel is right.

 

  Mrs. Fordyce knocks twice at the door frame. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”

  “No, not at all,” Blaine says and gets up from the sofa.

  “Good because there’s still a few more things we need to go over before I leave,” the older woman informs him. She smiles and again there’s that glint in her eyes. “How do you like it?”

  “It’s incredible, all of this is incredible but I can’t take it, it’s too much, I ---” he stops talking when he feels Rachel’s hand on his arm.

  “He’ll take it,” she assures.

  “You need to listen to your friend,” Mrs. Fordyce smiles. “The choice is yours of course, whether you want to use it or not, there’s nothing I can do about that. However, I was told, in no uncertain terms, that I should not let you leave the house without the keys.” Blaine can’t help but smile, of course Sebastian predicted his hesitance. The older woman hands him an envelope. “The front door key, the key from to this room and the alarm code. You’re free to come and go whenever you like. My daughter gives music lessons here with a couple of her colleagues but no one lives in the house,” she explains. “Oh, and there’s a small bathroom down the hall if you end up losing track of time. I know how that can happen”, she adds. Blaine can only nod, the reality of the situation overwhelming him. He thinks he manages to smile, but he’s not sure. “Well, all right then. I did my part. I do hope you decide to take advantage of this room but if you don’t please make sure Sebastian knows I did all I could to persuade you.”

  Rachel giggles. “How do you know Sebastian, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “Family connection. I’ve known him since he was a baby.”

  Blaine suddenly feels compelled to ask this woman a thousand questions: what was he like? does he have brothers and sisters? what were his favorite cartoons? did he have a favorite stuffed animal? what was it? how did he called it? did he have any pets? what was his favorite color? his favorite food? what did he dream of becoming? where did he learn to dance? when did he start to sing? did he have nightmares? did he liked fairy tales or was he always skeptical, even as a child? Questions, questions, questions. And they keep coming, making him realize how little he knows about him. All factual things, yes, things you can always learn, things that may not even be that important - not when there’s a connection that goes beyond the factual, a connection from the soul - yet Blaine still craves to know _everything_ about him. Still, right now one question seems the most important, a question he can actually ask. “Do you know --“ he stumbles for a moment, cheeks staining red, “-- do you know if he’s here in the city?” He’s embarrassed for not knowing.

  “No,” Mrs. Fordyce smiles, obviously not holding his ignorance against him. “He’s in Jersey, at Princeton.”   

  “Wow,” Rachel says standing next to him. He had no idea. He has no idea what he’s studying. It could be anything really, he knows that; Sebastian is incredibly smart and interested in everything, despite his apparent aloofness.

  “Thank you. For everything,” Blaine smiles.

  “You’re welcome but I didn’t do anything.” Mrs. Fordyce is just about to walk out of the room when Rachel requests an autograph, something she’s been probably dying to ask for since they entered the house, Blaine guesses. “Yes, of course. But how about a picture as well?”

  Blaine notices that his friend is the one close to fainting now and can’t help but chuckle. He takes a photo of the two of them with Rachel’s phone and just a few seconds after he feels his pocket vibrating. He offers his thanks once again and says goodbye to Mrs. Fordyce before excusing himself; he doesn’t answer though, when he sees it’s Kurt calling but just presses _ignore_. He turns around and sees Rachel putting he coat back on.

  “I’m gonna go,” she says, “I’m gonna buy you some time but I doubt I’ll be able to get him to see the reason --- I know that just the mention of Sebastian drives him up the wall so whatever you need to say to him I doubt he’ll be able to hear it.”

  “I know, but I can’t wait, not anymore, not when --”

  “No, I understand.”

  Blaine hugs her. “Thanks, Rach. Really, I --”

  “No, thank you -- for letting me tag along today. For letting me see this side of him. It was definitely an adventure,” she tells him. “But if he hurts you I’m gonna bury him under all that paper. You can tell him I said that. There’s certainly enough of it.”

  Blaine laughs and hugs her again. “I will.”

 

 

***

 

 

  An hour has passed since Rachel left and Blaine is still sitting on the sofa, still gathering the courage to call Sebastian, still trying to figure out what to say because _Thank you_ isn’t enough, it doesn’t even come close. He unlocks his phone - yet again - and his fingers hover over _Sebastian Smythe_ but then pull away and he locks the phone. It’s a cycle he’s been repeating: unlock, hover, lock. _Stop overthinking,_ a voice inside his head tells him, a familiar, smooth, smirking voice and his gaze falls on the coffee table in front of him where the note, with those same words written on it, is laying. He laughs at himself and shakes his head - he is overthinking.

  In one breath he unlocks his phone and presses _call._ He tries to control his breathing, slow his elevated heart rate but fails. All he’s aware of is the weight of the phone in his hand, the way his body is trembling and heart pounding, the sound of _toot -- toot -- toot_. And then the sound stops, the second stretches itself and Blaine stops breathing.

  “Blaine?”That’s the first thing Sebastian says - his name - and Blaine is thankful he’s sitting down. The boy on the other end of the line sounds surprised - didn’t he expect it? A call, a thank you? - but Blaine will think about that later; now he’s too busy trying to find his voice.

  “Yes. Hi,” he barely manages, voice shaky, barely there. He tries again, “Hey.” Better.

  Sebastian chuckles. “So, what can I do for you?” He seems to have recovered from the surprise. His voice is teasing, light; familiar.

  Blaine feels his lips pulling at the corners. He bites his lower lip. “Well, the weirdest thing happened today.”

  “Oh?” comes Sebastian’s amused nudge. “And what would that be?”

  “Well, my room is piled with boxes and my bed is littered with brochures. And now I’m sitting on the world’s most comfortable sofa looking at _my_ piano.” It’s impossible not to smile. He pulls his legs up to his chest. “So, I thought I’d call and ask if you know anything about that.”

  “Nope, not a thing.”

  Blaine laughs and then they don’t say anything for a few moments. “You really are crazy, you know that right?”

  “I’d been called worse,” Blaine can hear him smirk. God, he missed him.

  Another long moment of silence. “Thank you, Sebastian.” A thousand thank yous wouldn’t be enough but he hopes he can hear it in his voice: the deep gratitude, enormous gratefulness.  

  Another moment of silence where Blaine thinks the boy will find a way to blow off his appreciation, a moment where he hears a voice in the background coming through an intercom. “You’re welcome, B.” Sebastian’s voice is genuine, if only a little quiet.

  “You’re at the airport?” Blaine asks.

  “Yeah, and I actually have to go so --”

  “Oh, right, no of course,” he’s stumbling a little. “I’ll let you go then.” He doesn’t like how those words taste in his mouth, even in this context. The urge to correct himself is strong; silly, yes, but too strong. “I mean, you should get going. I don’t want you to miss your flight.” He feels his cheeks getting warmer even before he hears Sebastian chuckle.

  “I do have to get going but ----” the boy on the other end pauses, a long pause, so long that Blaine has to check to see that the call wasn’t dropped. “-- can I text you later?” Sebastian is nervous, Blaine realizes when his brain processes the timidness in his voice.

  “Yes, of course,” he doesn’t even try to hide how much he likes the promise of that. He doesn’t want to hide anything anymore.

  “Okay, good.”

  Blaine thinks he hears a release of a breath, he thinks he hears him picking up his bag, zipping it. He’ll hang up any moment but there’s one thing, one thing Blaine has to tell him right now. Not later, not tomorrow, _now_. “Sebastian, wait!” He calls urgently and too loud and blushes again when he hears another amused chuckle.

  “Still here,” the boy says and there’s one more announcement in the background.

  “I ---” it’s Blaine’s turn to pause now. “We’re not getting married.”

  “Oh.” A silent wait. “Well, I’m not sorry.”

  Blaine holds his breath and when the answer comes he laughs.  “Neither am I,” he answers honestly.

  “Can you hold a sec?” Sebastian asks then.

  “Sure.” A second spreads and forms minutes; a time filled with Blaine’s racing thoughts, happy thoughts, with the feeling of warmth inside every inch of his body, with muffled sounds of people moving and talking.  

  “You still here?” Sebastian’s voice comes through his phone.

  “Yes.” As if he would go somewhere, anywhere. Not anymore. No more running away.

  “I have a few minutes before they confiscate my phone,” he jokes but then asks, serious. “Are you okay?”

  Smile is so wide on Blaine’s and he hopes Sebastian can hear it when he answers truthfully. “Yes, great actually.” _Amazingly, incredibly I seem to be._ _Better than I’ve been in a long time and all thanks to you._ But there’s no time for that now. Later. He’ll tell him everything later - tomorrow, day after, in the weeks and months that are before them. “I’m breaking up with him when I get home.” Another confession, another truth.

  Another “Oh.”Blaine can hear the disbelief, the skepticism. He isn’t surprised but he finds it amusing.

  “You don’t believe me?” he teases his friend. And maybe it’s that - the joking, the laughter - that convinces Sebastian that Blaine is actually being serious.

  “I’m surprised,” he allows “and again, not sorry.”

  Blaine laughs again. “I’d be shocked if you were.”

  It’s Sebastian’s turn to laugh. “Yeah, a lot of things may change but not my opinion of Hummel. Think of it as one of those rare constants in life.” Then he adds, voice softer now, “I just want you to be happy, Blaine.” He remembers it, remembers Sebastian telling him that but now he _hears_ him.

  “I know you do. You always did.” He pauses just to let the words sink in. “And I want that for myself as well.” One more truth.

  “Seems there’s hope for you yet,” Sebastian teases.

  Blaine is smiling and there’s an _Oh, shut up!_ on the tip of his tongue but then he hears a flight attendant telling Sebastian how he needs to turn off his phone so “I heard,” comes out instead.

  “We’re about to take off but I’ll talk to you later.” There’s a slight upward inclination in his words that Blaine doesn't miss and that causes the smile to stretch out again.

  “Definitely,” he says, grinning. “And Sebastian --- thank you. Really.” He wants to say things like _You saved my life_ and _I’m sorry I was blind_ and _You deserve to be happy too_ and _I miss you_ but he doesn’t. There will be time for that. Plenty of it. All the time in the world.

  “Bye, killer.”

 

 

***

 

 

  Blaine stretches on the couch, tired and smiling, and covers himself with a blanket. All the excitement of the day seems to be finally catching up with him, along with weeks and months of restless nights, hauntingly empty dreams. The night is falling over the city and he knows he should go home but he’s not in a hurry. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, letting his body relax fully.

 

  

  His life experienced a major turn today, a shift and now he can see the hope, the possibilities and the future. He feels it all around him, inside of him.

  It was a day of slowly coming back to life - atom by atom, molecule by molecule, one beat of his heart after another; his rekindled heart. That’s how he feels - to his bones, to his toes, to the very core of himself - awakened, revived. He was lost and now he feels found.

  

  Today is the day when things end; over and done, no going back. Yet it is also the start, the opening of the future. He’ll always remember how it felt -- the beginning of _everything._

In twenty-four hours he will be flying over the Atlantic smiling, relieved and excited for everything the future holds for him.

 

****

****

**TBC**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. 
> 
> The Paris CMCC program is an actual music program, held at the Institut de Recherche et Coordination Acoustique/Musique (IRCAM) and although I borrowed more than just a name and there are similarities, the program in my story is fictional, as is the story.


	3. Part Three: Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English is not my native language so I apologize for all and any grammar mistakes.

**PART THREE**

**ALIVE**

 

 

 Five months have passed since that momentous day in December. Five amazing months. Months comprised of finding himself, meeting the person he is now; now after everything that had happened.

  Blaine knew going back was impossible. He didn’t want to be the same boy he’d been before he met Kurt, before he fell in and out of love. Everything that had happened, good and bad, was now a part of him and it was about learning from it, about reclaiming parts of him that he’d lost and discovering the new and the unknown, the hidden.

  Everything seemed different, especially in those first few weeks of the second semester. The streets he walked, the steps he took, the sky above his head, the fluttering of his heart, expanse of his lungs. It was as if he’d just arrived in the city, as if he’d never saw those forests of buildings, those shiny store windows and neon signs; and maybe in a way he hadn’t seen it. Everything was brand new and open and full of possibilities.

  He realized how distant from himself he’d been, how isolated from everybody. Everything he’d had was in some way extension of Kurt: he’d drank coffee and ate pizza from Kurt’s favorite places, most of the new people he’d met were Kurt’s friends, the movies and the shows he’d watched were his boyfriends choices, even the opinions he’d had weren’t really his. It was a startling discovery, a terrifying understanding of how much of his identity wasn’t his at all.

  

                                                          

***

 

  Blaine moved out of Rachel and Kurt’s Brooklyn loft the day he got back from Italy.

  He’d found the apartment while he was still there using University's online bulletin board; Internet really is a beautiful thing. He didn’t have high expectations when he started browsing through _roommate needed_ section. After all, he’d heard enough stories about nightmare roommates, bug-infested apartments and crazy landlords. All he wanted was a person that doesn’t scream _I’m hiding dead bodies under my bed_ and a room with a door. So when he found Annie he was understandably a little skeptical; she and her Manhattan apartment seemed too good to be true.    

  Annie Shaw, a first year medical student, was in desperate need of a roommate - she’d kicked her last one out when he revealed himself to be a homophobic asshole after meeting Annie’s sister Julie, a lesbian - and was panicking because she knew she wouldn’t be able to pay the rent.

  Their first _Skype_ call was a little awkward and very hysterical. Both of them were suspicious of each other but then Blaine exploded laughing after Annie had asked him, with a strange mix of clumsiness and determination, if he had a problem with gay people. After he’d composed himself and informed her that he was actually gay himself all the tension between them disappeared. They ended up _Skyping_ a few more times: getting to know each other, Annie giving him a few virtual tours of the apartment - it was really beautiful which explained the high price of the rent but Blaine didn’t care, not when he was able to afford it and especially with his new outlook on life: _I deserve it._ By the time he got back to the States he not only had a place to live but he also had a friend. _His_ friend. Annie actually ended up meeting him at the airport and by the evening that same day he was at home. His first home in New York City.

  He’d taken the time making the room his; it was the end of February by the time he’d completely settled in, but it was worth it. He had everything he wanted, exactly what he wanted:  color of the wall - yellow, the type of dressers, the perfect table, comfortable chair and definitely the perfect bed. He kept some of the boxes Sebastian had sent him with him, arranged alongside the wall beneath the windows, giving more colors to his room, to his life; the rest he kept in a storage room. Searching for all those pieces of furniture was an adventure in itself; especially with Santana being involved.

   

  He got a call from Jeff on Friday, the last weekend of the winter break, inviting him to a sort of house-warming party; apparently he and his roommate had found a new apartment and were throwing a party. Blaine almost fainted in shock when he found out that Santana was Jeff’s mysterious roommate. Then he almost fainted again when he learned that they had been living together since October. Another proof of how cut-off from everything he’d been; he and Jeff went to the same school and he’d barely talked to him.

  Santana and Jeff met at a party Jeff’s older sister, Ellie, had thrown at the end of September; a party Santana had attended because one of her go-go dancer friends is friends with Ellie. At the time Jeff had been living in the dorms in NYU with a roommate from hell and Santana had been crushing on yet another random couch in yet another random apartment. The story is simple: after dancing together all night, in the morning they had decided to find an apartment together. Everything else - history. (Blaine knew Santana had had her last blow up with Kurt and Rachel sometimes during the summer but over what he didn’t know; all he did know was that Santana Lopez was a persona non grata in a Berry/Hummel abode.)

  

  Santana was oddly delighted when Blaine revealed to them that he and Kurt had broke up. And when he’d told them about finding a new place to live and going furniture shopping she insisted on tagging along. “You need someone to help you choose a bed, a _real_ bed. Now that you and Hummel are finally _terminado_ you need a bed that can take all the mind blowing sex you’ll be having.” Blaine laughed and blushed but at the end both Santana and Jeff went with him on the search for the perfect bed. It took them two weeks; “You’ll thank me,”she’d smirked every time Blaine suggested that maybe she took this a little too seriously. But in the end, they found it and it really was sinfully perfect. “She’s right, _”_ Sebastian said to Blaine when he’d told him all about their bed-finding adventure. “If I could afford only one piece of furniture it would definitely be a bed.”

 

                                                                  

  

  For the past five months Blaine has been on a journey, an exciting, wonderful journey of finding his place in the city, of uncovering himself. New York can be intimidating, gigantic, loud, moving, always, always moving but he did what he always thought he’d do: he took time to roam the streets, to explore this giant concrete forest, to search for green oases, to learn all the smelly smells, all the scents, sounds and noises. He took his time finding perfect bakery with the best cherry pie, perfect sandwich shop, Italian restaurant, best burger; the quest for some of these things, and others, is still ongoing but that’s where the fun is.

  It took him two and a half months to find a perfect coffee shop, during which time he’d drank and tasted so many really disgusting drinks - that couldn’t even be called a _coffee_. He didn’t mind the search, especially when at last he stumbled upon the exact kind of place he’d always hoped he’d find: intimate, friendly, with excellent coffee - he thinks it would meet even Sebastian’s ridiculously high standards - and with the open mic nights on Wednesdays, Fridays and Saturdays; he was hesitant to perform at first but now it’s one of his favorite things to do.

 

  

  During this past five months this is what he learned, among other things: he really hates _Katherine Heigl_ and isn’t as much of a fan of romantic comedies as one would think; _Deep Space 9_ is his favorite of all _Star Trek_ franchises - he finally got around to watch the last three seasons; he’s smart and talented and on many days actually confident; he prefers Jonny Lee Miller’s _Sherlock_ over Benedict Cumberbatch’s and mango is definitely his favorite fruit.

  He learned to again appreciate the little things: the sunrise, the quiet, weightless moment between sleeping and waking up, the feel of his lips stretching into a smile, the feel of piano keys under his fingertips; he learned that his real friends will like him even when he’s moody or upset and that being in his own skin can be the best feeling in the world; he learned how to forgive himself; he learned that being nice doesn’t mean you need to let people walk all over you and that being selfish sometimes isn’t a sin but a salvation.

 

 

 

  It is all about letting things fit; about learning what he already knows, what he already knew somehow, somewhere deep inside. It is about accepting that it had been there for a long time, settled in his chest, in the most hidden, secret part of his heart.

   _Sebastian._

  His friend, his best friends, the boy that saved his life. A person that sees him, hears him, knows him. The boy he’s falling in love with.

 

 

*******

 

 

  “Blaine,” Annie knocks on his door, “he did it again.” Grin breaks across his face.

  “Annie?” he calls his friend when he exits his room.

  “Kitchen,” comes her response.

  There’s a wooden crate sitting on the island. Mangoes. Blaine starts to laugh and Annie hands him a note. **_Congratulations, killer - you survived freshman year!_** Blaine laughs again and takes one mango from the crate.

  “They’re delicious,” Annie says with her mouth full.

 

  

  It’s a thing, sending things to each other.

  It all started, of course, with that first, gigantic, crazy, life-saving gift Blaine had received and with Blaine’s need to say thank you.

  He knew he will never be able to find words to explain how much it all meant to him; that to him it was worth mountains and oceans, worlds and kingdoms. How do you say thank you to something like that anyway? Well, you send thousand handwritten _thank you_ notes, for starters. That’s what Blaine had been doing during his two weeks stay in Venice: sleeping, eating, talking to his _nonna_ , playing with his seven year-old cousin Allegra and writing **_Thank you Sebastian_** on card notes. It definitely wasn’t a small operation: writing, inserting the note cards inside envelopes, writing the address on the back, putting stamps on. He accepted some help: his _nonna_ helped him acquire all the cards, envelopes and stamps and Allegra helped with stamping - everything else was his doing and he didn’t even think about accepting any other help; because he didn't need it. The more his hand cramped the bigger the smile on his face grew. He will never forget the look he got in the post office when he came with boxes full of envelopes to send - they weren’t to be sent in boxes; oh, no! Every envelope individually. The woman working there had looked at him as if he was a lunatic, especially when she noticed that all of them were addressed to the same person, but Blaine didn’t care. _You think I’m crazy, you should see what this boy did for me._

In the evening of the first day of spring semester Sebastian called him. “I hope you’re proud of yourself,”the boy told him and Blaine could hear him smiling. Apparently he managed to cause quite a disturbance in the University’s Post Office by mailing - designedly so - the notes to his Princeton mailbox. “Very,”he replied, grinning, heart fluttering wildly in his chest.

  And that’s how it started. They kept sending each other everything and anything - fruits, desserts, books, silly T-shirts, ties, bow ties, sunglasses - and mostly without some big meaning behind it but simply just because.

 

  “What’s so funny?” Annie asks.

  “I sent him the same thing,” Blaine tells his friend.

  “You sent him a crate of mangoes?” Blaine only nods and keeps grinning. Well, this is first for them - sending the same thing. His phone vibrates in his pocket and when he sees the message **_Great minds think alike. Thanks, B._** he laughs again. “Why mangoes?” Annie inquires.

  “I guess -- it’s sort of our fruit,” Blaine explains and feels himself blush even before he sees the way she’s looking at him.

  Annie shakes her head. “Will I ever meet this guy or what?” But before Blaine has a chance to answer her phone starts going off. “Saved by the bell,” she sing-songs.

 

  

  The truth is, Blaine is yet to see Sebastian.

  They’re texting nonstop, talking daily on the phone but they are yet to meet; even though only an hour train ride is what’s keeping them apart. Except, it’s not only that, is it? They are both hesitant, both scared of something and in moments when Blaine is capable of thinking clearly, rationally, he is sure they are scared of the same thing: that the other boy doesn’t want anything more than a friendship. Of course, those rational moments are few and far in between. Most of the time Blaine’s thoughts are a mess, constantly jumping between being sure they both want the same thing and thinking how those kinds of thoughts are something that should be filed under _too good to be true_ category and leave it in the land of fantasy and wishful thinking. If Sebastian wanted him he would say something, wouldn’t he? It’s Sebastian. But then again, he understands why he would be hesitant since he’d put his heart on the line before. And can that be the reason why he wouldn’t be interested in pursuing anything more than a friendship?

  

_“_ You’re overthinking things,”Annie always says when he tries to explain why is it that he and Sebastian are keeping a distance between them. “You’re crazy about each other. And don’t even try selling me one of those ‘I’m not sure if he sees me that way anymore’. Remember, we are living together.” Annie told him that just a few weeks ago. They’d made themselves comfortable on the living room floor with couple bottles of wine and a need to unwind. Blaine ended up telling her more than he’d intended; but it turned out nothing he’d said was any news to her.

 

  Annie knows him. It would be so easy to cling to that _Sebastian’s not attracted to me anymore_ straw, a straw that would explain everything but not even he in his most insecure moments can believe that. Not anymore at least; not since March - Thursday, thirteenth - and that _other_ type of phone call.

 

  

  He’d woken up that morning achingly hard - nothing unusual about that - but he was running late so that meant freezing shower and no jerking off. That meant being haunted by his dream during the entire day. That meant never being so glad to come home as he was that evening.

  That meant that he definitely wasn’t thinking clearly.

  Because if he had been thinking clearly would he have answered his phone while his hand was wrapped around his cock, moving in a steady up and down strokes?

   _“Sebastian,”_ he breathed out.

  “Thinking about me?”he teased but it wasn’t until Blaine moaned _“Yes”_ that Sebastian realized what the boy on the other end of the line was doing. “Shit, Blaine. Are you --?”

“Don’t hang up,” Blaine pleaded, voice thick with need, breathing hard.

  “Wasn’t planning on it.” Sebastian’s teasing lost itself under the desire that had filled his voice.

  Blaine could swear he’d heard the unzipping of the jeans and then the sounds of his own ragged breathing, of his quiet, breathy moans and grunts were mingling with the similar sounds coming from his phone, and when Sebastian moaned his name for the first time he was _gone_. He will never forget how that sounded, how it felt. How Sebastian’s name tasted in his mouth when he came or how Sebastian sounded coming with his name on his lips. It was sensational, intoxicating, wonderful.

 

  And it continued happening.

  

  They never say what they want to do to each other, they don't have to. Just knowing and listening to what they are doing, in concert, is enough. It’s simple: faint faint sounds of hands stroking and touching, of bodies sinking deeper into the mattresses; thrilling, delightful taste of moans and grunts; enticing, fiery noises of gasps and sighs. It’s all _oh_ and _mmm_ and _uggh; close_ and _me too, Blaine_ and _Sebastian._ It’s simple and it’s glorious.

  

  They never talk about those phone calls but they also don’t _not_ talk about it. “I don’t know about you, but I slept like a baby last night,” Sebastian said to him, smirked, the day after the first time. “And don’t go all blushing on me now,”he teased. Blaine did blush but he was also happy that they’re not hiding from what had happened.

  

  

 And then just few days ago another move forward, another step closer.

  

  It was Friday, last day of the semester, last day of the school year. Blaine had been at the party with Annie. Well, technically, he’d been at the party with Martin - his date; third year philosophy major, great guy all round but what did that matter when Blaine was already taken, his heart at least. It was their fifth date over the course of a month and a half and when the older boy kissed him when they were dancing and drew him closer Blaine pushed himself off and away. “I’m sorry”,Blaine had said quickly, “There’s someone else.”

  “Shouldn’t you be out?”Sebastian asked as a way of greeting. Blaine had called him the moment he got home, feeling a little panicky, a little tipsy.

“I was out, just got home,” he said. There was more he wasn’t saying.

  “Oh. So Martin is a no then? I’m sorry, he seemed like a great guy.”

Blaine wanted Sebastian to say something but not this; he didn’t want Sebastian to say that he’s sorry and he definitely didn’t want to hear sincerity in those words.

  “Are you really sorry?! Do you _want_ me to fall for him?! Because I could,” - _In a world without you,_ Blaine thought _-_ “he’s an amazing guy - is that what you really want?”Blaine was shaking. Fear and desire were flowing inside his bloodstream; dangerous combination.

  “Blaine, I--”

  “Just tell me what you want.” _Please, tell me the truth; take your own advice_ _\- be selfish, I don’t care, just tell me what you want._

“I want you to be happy, I-- I can’t --”

“Can’t what? Be selfish? Since when?”Wrong words, hurtful words but Blaine wasn’t thinking straight. He couldn’t help but feel like they are going to miss something - a chance, an open door, a road. He couldn’t help but feel like Sebastian was doing the same thing Blaine had done before - bending himself to fit something he’s not, something --- No! No, he knew that wasn’t the case, they were nothing like he and Kurt were but there was just this growing sense of urgency building up inside him for the last two weeks. Whatever they were doing for the past months was amazing and perfect and exactly what they’d needed but not anymore; he liked him, wanted him so much it started to hurt. They needed to move closer and Blaine didn’t know how. “Bas, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean --”

 “What do you want me to say?!” he interrupted, his voice harder, cut opened. “That I’m jealous as hell of every guy that gets to touch you and see you every day? That I feel sick to my stomach when I know you’re out on a date? That I think about you all the time, that I’m so crazy about you it’s --- that I always had been? Is that it?”

_Yes, yes_ it is but not like this. Not when Sebastian sounded so torn, like those feelings are something he should fight against because he feels unworthy. It broke his heart.

  “Sebastian ---”

“Shit. I gotta go.”

_“NO!_ Don’t hang up -- just stay with me -- _please.”_

Sebastian didn’t say anything but he stayed on the line. Neither of them said anything for a long time but then Blaine sniffled.

  “Shit, Blaine, don’t cry. I didn’t --”

Blaine was quick to interrupt him. “It’s not like that-- I-- I feel the same way, I---”

 “You do?”

  Blaine couldn’t help but smile at the disbelief in Sebastian’s words. He could hear it, as well as hope. “Yeah, I thought you knew.”How is it that Sebastian knows everything but not this? That’s what feelings do to you, they mess with your perspective. The more you want someone the more you doubt the possibility of them reciprocating your feelings. “I mean -- We talk all the time and I definitely don’t have phone sex with just _anyone.”_ He ended with a teasing, just to light up the situation a little but still keep the weight.

  “Well, wanting to fuck someone and wanting to be with them doesn’t necessarily go hand in hand,”Sebastian had joked but Blaine caught the undertone, after blushing.

  “I know, but in this situation it does,”he said, completely serious, entirely honest.

  “Good to know because -- because I meant what I said. I’m crazy about you, Blaine Anderson. And I keep thinking about everything we could be doing together and --”

“Tell me,” Blaine said, his body sinking further down on his bed.

  Sebastian chuckled. “Easy there, killer. I have other things on my mind besides having sex with you.”

Blaine blushed. “I know. Just tell meeverything _._ ”

“Really?”

  “Yes.”

  A moment. And then another.

_“_ I think about us sitting on the couch, curled up next to each other reading, or watching TV, arguing over who is hotter _Adam Levine_ or _Blake Shelton, Iron Man_ or _Hawkeye._ I think about kissing every inch of your body and waking up next to you. I think how you would look - still sleepy-eyed and your curls going every each way. I even think about us fighting because I know we would but I don’t think it would last long because -- because we know each other and I--- I think how you would look after fucking all night. I think about us eating breakfast together, I think about me trying to cook you dinner and failing spectacularly. I think how if we lived together we would always be late for everything and how our water bill would be insanely high. I think about walking with you and holding your hand. You would tease me about being cheesy and I would grumble how it’s not true and would end up kissing you to shut you up.” Blaine was beyond dizzy; he couldn’t be sure what was turning him on more - the images of them naked and together or portraits of those innocent, everyday moments; maybe it was a combination of the two, combination that was promising _everything_. “I think how our bodies would fit together, how I know they would. I think about how your skin smells, how your cock would feel in my hand, in my mouth. I think about us staying in bed all day, talking and laughing and touching. I--”

Sebastian stopped talking; his words were becoming more strangled, more drawn out, his voice kept going lower and lower and breaking in places. Blaine knew he was touching himself as well but he wanted to hear more; everything Sebastian was saying and how he was saying it was intoxicating and astonishing, _igniting_ him, and he never wanted it to end. “Don’t stop, _please.”_ He felt like he could faint and Sebastian wasn’t even here, he was 50 miles away yet he never felt more close to anyone in his life. He never felt anyone so strongly.  

  “Fuck, Blaine I -- I need to see you, I need to touch you --I --” he could barely talk now, words were losing themselves, choking on all that need and desire.   

“ _Close_ \-- fuck Bas, I’m -- so --”

“I want you to fuck me -- _fuck_ \-- _do whatever you want with me_ \--”

  Blaine was falling apart the moment he heard it; orgasm slammed into him _hard_ and unexpected, despite how close he knew he was. He never came so hard in his life and it took him few long long moments to catch his breath, to calm down his dizzying head - just in time to hear Sebastian coming undone as well.

  “Were you trying to kill me or what?”Blaine joked, a dopey grin on his face, his body splayed boneless on his bed.

“You liked that, did you?”Sebastian teased back and from the sound of his voice Blaine could tell that the other boy probably had a similar grin on his face.

  “Definitely.”He giggled, he actually giggled.

  

  They ended up talking, like they always did before putting _Perry Mason_ DVD - third season - in their respective DVD players.

  “Spill it,”Sebastian said twenty minutes into the first episode. “You’re thinking.”

  Blaine chuckled; it was unbelievable how Sebastian was able to differentiate between quiet silence and the noisy one, where they didn’t talk but Blaine’s brain kept turning itself over. It really was unbelievable. Also appreciative because even though Blaine has learned to voice his thoughts more often and more freely he will always remain a person who tends to keep things down, inside himself, a person that needs a nudge, a push. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you doing that.”  Really, sometimes it felt like the boy is able to read his mind; but he wouldn’t want it any other way. He needed it and they both knew that.

  “It’s a gift,” Sebastian smirked. “So, what’s up?”

  “Nothing, I just --- Thank you for waiting for me.” Sebastian laughed. “That wasn’t supposed to be funny, I’m serious.”

  “I know. It’s just -- thank you for not saying how I don’t need to wait or something equally patronizing. It’s not like you have a choice in the matter. Shit, I don’t have a choice in the matter. You’re _it_ , I know that and I know it’s crazy since we’re not even together but --- I just know it. I don’t know what will happen, if we’ll work as a couple, you know -- the way we do as friends --- but I know you’re it.”

“Sebastian --”

“Don’t go saying anything cheesy now _\--”_ he warned.

“I wasn’t going to, you just did that.” Blaine teased and laughed and melted.

“Oh, shut up and watch the show.”

“Okay, cheeseball.” Sebastian snorted. “But thank you, really.”

  “Geez, killer it’s not like I’ve been celibate since I met you. Now _that ---_ that would’ve been --- Well, I would probably be dead so---”Blaine laughed. “Although, casual sex definitely isn’t what it used to be.”

“Oh?” Blaine inquired curiously.

  “Yeah. I mean, what’s some random guy when you can make me come harder without even touching me.” Blaine blushed, naturally. “No need to blush,” the boy on the other end teased.

  “I’m not,”Blaine lied, grinning.

  “Of course you are, I can hear it.”

“You’re ridiculous, you can’t _hear_ me blushing.”

“Oh, I most definitely can. It’s just one of my many talents.”

“God, just --- shut up and watch the show!”Blaine’s attempt to sound stern had failed when another chuckle escaped from his throat.

  And then silence fell again; only sounds in both of their rooms were faint noises from the outside and _Perry Mason_ revealing the identity of yet another murderer.

 

   _“_ Sebastian _\--”_ Blaine called to his friend when he started to feel himself falling asleep. Just one more thing he needed to say, to ask, to hear.

  “I know. We’ll figure things out, I promise. When you get back from San Francisco, okay?”

  “Yeah, sounds like a plan.”

  “Night, killer.”

  “Goodnight, Bas.”

 

*******

  

  

  The thing is, Blaine didn’t go to San Francisco; San Francisco was never the plan. Yes, he’d gotten into the summer music program but in not in California; no. In Paris. He’d gotten into the _CMCC_ program and he kept it a secret; only his parents and Cooper knew. Truth is, he wanted to shout from the rooftops after he’d gotten the email informing him he’s been accepted but then he got the idea of surprising everyone. He’ll take a picture of himself with the _Eiffel Tower_ in the background and post it and wait for the Internet to explode; his little corner of it, at any rate.

  He’ll do it tomorrow. Now he has another surprise planned for one special person.

  He’s grinning like a fool while he’s typing a message to Sebastian. **_Know any good coffee shops in Paris?_** He’s sitting on his bed trying very hard not to bounce on it while his roommate - a twenty-year old Japanese cello player Haruki - is _Skyping_ with what looks like his family on the other end of the room, and excitedly waits for Sebastian’s response. He wanted to do this after his morning classes but with the time difference - Sebastian is in Chicago visiting his father - he managed to hold himself until now. Not a minute has passed when his phone starts ringing.           

  “You’re in _Paris_?” Sebastian is definitely surprised and Blaine is definitely proud of himself.

  “Yes, didn’t I mention it?” Blaine is feigning ignorance.

  “You little -- I should’ve known,” Sebastian says “There’s no way they wouldn’t have accepted you. Who knew you could keep a secret for what, month and a half?”

  “Well, it wasn’t easy,” Blaine confesses, “But I wanted to surprise you.”

  “You definitely did.”

  They don’t say anything for a moment or two, too busy smiling. “So, what about that coffee shop. There must be some cool secret place with excellent coffee that isn’t mentioned in any guidebooks.”

  “Oh, there sure is,” Sebastian smirks and Blaine should’ve caught it, that promise of something beneath it but he was just too excited about the fact that he was in Paris and that he managed to surprise his friend; he was also more than a little relieved because it definitely wasn’t an easy thing keeping this a secret. Especially when he had to lie to him about not getting in. He knows Sebastian thought he was downplaying his disappointment and it was so heartwarming, not to mention amusing, listening to him talk how moronic they are, how it’s their loss, how _They wouldn’t know a real talent if it went and sent them an application:_ “I’ll text you the address,” Sebastian says “And if you get there in the next half-hour you just might get something extra special with your coffee.”

  “Okay, thanks. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Definitely. Very soon.” Sebastian smirked again.

  Blaine should’ve definitely caught _that._

 

***

 

  Twenty minutes later and he is walking into the _Éternelle_ and immediately he decides he likes it; not just because Sebastian recommended it or because of its name. He looks around, trying to decide where to sit but he loses himself when he sees that the walls are all decorated with all kinds of different photographs, writings and paintings. He is startled by a girl’s voice talking to him in French.

“Oh, I’m sorry, my French is really bad ---”

  “An American,” the girl - a waitress Blaine realizes - concludes and Blaine isn’t sure if he’s being insulted or not. Girl laughs and informs him with a smile “I’m not gonna hold it against you. It would be very hypocritical of me after all, my boyfriend is an American. I’m Mélanie.”

  “Blaine.”

  Mélanie smiles, a knowing smile that Blaine misses. “I was saying, customers made all this. Everyone is free to write something or draw and put it on the wall.”

  “Cool,” Blaine says, only glancing at Mélanie for a second before turning his gaze back to the wall.

  “We have poetry readings, and open mic evenings,” she says and points to the small stage at the far back. “There’s also --“ The sound of the bell chiming interrupts her. “I have to go, but you’re free to keep looking around, just tell me what I can get you.”

  “Oh, just an ice tea, peach if you have it.”

  “We do and you should take a look there,” she points to the big cork board, “It’s reserved for our stars,” she adds with a wink.

  It takes him less than a minute to spot two photographs of Sebastian: on stage, with a guitar, singing; and one of him, Mélanie and another boy sitting on one of the couches, laughing. A smile spreads across his lips and his heart starts beating in that familiar, unique rhythm. And then it just _stops_ before it speeds up so instantly and so fast that Blaine actually thinks he’s having a heart attack.

  “See someone you recognize, killer?” A voice says in his ear.

  Blaine whirls around so quickly and almost trips over his own feet. He would’ve fallen if it wasn’t for a hand gripping his arm, just above his elbow. He wouldn’t even consider this to be real if he wasn’t so acutely aware of the pressure of Sebastian's hand on his skin; for a moment the entire world is compressed to this: one single point of contact, touch, heat spreading through his body.

  “Sebastian?” he asks, barely.

  “One and only,” he smirks.

  “W - wha - What are you doing here?” Maybe he would be able to compose himself faster if Sebastian would let go of him. Maybe.

  “Getting the best coffee in town,” Sebastian smirks again and takes a step closer, slides his hand down Blaine’s arm, slowly, lightly before pressing their palms together, intertwining their fingers. He leans down, closes his eyes and skims his nose against Blaine’s jaw and feels the boy shiver. He takes a moment and just inhales; Blaine is the one in complete shock here but Sebastian is also having a hard time processing that this is real, that Blaine is here and he can see him, touch him - finally. “Come on, lets sit before you faint.”

  Blaine nods, or maybe he doesn’t, he can’t be sure. And while Sebastian is guiding them through the row of tables and chairs to the front of the _café_ all he is able to look at are their linked hands and how gracefully they fit, perfectly; he never wants to let go. But he has to when they sit down, at the table by the window, in the corner that offers some privacy. Blaine is barely seated when Mélanie appears with his ice tea and Sebastian’s coffee. He watches as they exchange few sentences in French and actually pinches his forearm, hard, under the table because he still doesn’t believe this is more than a dream. Later he’ll have to laugh at himself for being so thrown but he doesn’t think anyone can fault him for having a hard time catching up with reality.

  “It was nice meeting you, finally,” Mélanie says to Blaine.

  “You too,” he replies and smiles back and takes a glass with the orangey/yellowy liquid, suddenly feeling parched, but then her words register and he grins at the boy sitting across from him.

  “Wait - _finally_? You’ve been talking about me,” and it isn't a question.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Sebastian replies but is quick to take a sip - a very long sip - of his coffee and Blaine can see that his cheeks are actually coloring.

  “Oh really? Any why are you blushing then?”

  “I’m not,” Sebastian says and Blaine thinks that he believes it; he actually looks surprised. Maybe no one’s ever accused him of it; maybe no one even made him blush before. Blaine’s grin grows impossibly wide at that thought.

  “You are,” he insists, trying not to be smug about it. “So, what are you telling people about me?”

  Sebastian makes some sort of snorting sound before taking another sip of his coffee but then his eyes start glinting and Blaine knows he’ll be the one blushing in a few moments; not that he minds.

  “I may have told her I met this guy with the world’s most perfect ass,” he winks. Blaine kicks him under the table but his cheeks are burning just the same. “What? You don’t believe me?”

  “No, I do,” Blaine admits, “But I also know it was more than that. You wouldn’t be blushing if my ass was the only topic of the conversation.”

  Sebastian grins. “Sassy, I like it.” He makes a move as to take another sip but lowers the cup before it reaches his mouth. “I didn’t tell her that much, Mel just made assumptions and --- well, they were true.”

  Blaine bites his lower lip while his heart swells twice its normal size. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he exclaims even though what he really wants to say is _I can’t believe you’re real._

Sebastian snorts, “Me? I did live here. It wasn’t just some line I used to pick up hot, bashful schoolboys, you know?”

  Blaine laughs. “I know. I just --- you don’t really talk about Paris or about living here. And besides, aren't you supposed to be in Chicago?”

  “I was. For a whole week. Seven days too many.” Blaine gives him a sympathetic smile. He knows Sebastian’s relationship with his father is strained and after learning few new informations from Jeff just before coming to Paris he himself is having a hard time trying not to despise the man, the man he never even met. “And you would’ve known I was here if you hadn’t basically gone AWOL.“

  Blaine smiles sheepishly. “Sorry, I know I’ve been feeding you some stupid excuses but I was so excited about coming here and I was afraid I’ll somehow reveal myself and you’ll figure everything out so I--”

  Sebastian chuckles and smirks. “Yeah, that was probably a good call,” and winks before taking another sip of his coffee. “And about what you said -- about me not talking about Paris --” Sebastian starts again but hesitates; it’s a familiar hesitation but it still leaves Blaine with not knowing anything. “I guess I have mixed memories from here and it’s hard to separate the two.” Blaine nods because he doesn’t know what to say. “Sorry. I know you think I’m being cagey but I’m not hiding anything. Well, I guess I am, but it’s nothing bad, I mean it is but -- shit, it’s nothing---” Sebastian is stumbling over his words, and Blaine knows that whatever it is is serious and he doesn’t want Sebastian to think that he needs to explain himself. He is aware how much Sebastian has opened up to him and what that means and he doesn’t want to push him. So he just places his hand over his.

  “It’s fine, you don’t have to tell me,” he assures him with a smile and hopes he realizes that he is here for him.

  Sebastian offers him a small nod and looks at their hands before turning his palm over, slowly. It feels so good: the way their palms are pressing against each other, lightly; the way their fingers are entwining together, lazily, indulgently. Blaine’s eyes close and he just _feels_ it; such a simple thing, such a big effect. When he opens his eyes he glances at Sebastian and sees a serious expression on his face, still looking at their joined hands, still entwining and untwining their fingers in the same slow, gentle way.

  “My mom’s here. That’s why -- I came to see her.” There’s something so torn about the look on his face that Blaine feels something tugging at his heart without really knowing anything. Sebastian rarely even mentions his mom, even less than he talks about his dad so Blaine would assume their relationship is even more strained if it wasn’t for the words Sebastian uses: it’s always _father_ never _dad,_ and always _mom_ or _maman_ never _mother._ Blaine doesn’t know what to do so he just squeezes Sebastian’s hand and that earns him a smile, still a little sad but a smile nevertheless. “I’d like you to meet her,” Sebastian says and then adds, “If you want.”

  Blaine smiles and squeezes his hand again. “Sure, yeah, I’d love to.” He’s happy that Sebastian wants him to meet one of his parents but tries to keep his emotions in check because he knows he’s missing something crucial and doesn't want to do or say a wrong thing.

  “On a different note,” Sebastian starts with a noticeably different tone of voice, “When did you get here and who knows that you’re even here?” He also pulled his hand away to take another sip and Blaine tries very hard not to concentrate on the empty feeling in his own hand.

  He grins. “On Saturday. Today was the official first day. And no one knows except from my parents and Cooper.”

  Sebastian shakes his head and leans back in his chair and just looks at Blaine, takes him in. They keep watching each other for a few minutes or ten or more, just letting the reality settle in. They are here, in the same place, in Paris. It’s been more than a year since they laid their eyes on each other and even though they talked daily this is still overwhelming; the realness, the nowness. Their smiles grow to cover their entire faces and then fall to something more serious, something introspective, something that holds the realizations and understandings; and then the feelings are flooding them and again they’re grinning like fools. It’s a series of face breaking grins and small, thoughtful smiles. Their chests are rising harder in random moments, as if their bodies are trying to make more room for all these feelings that are growing inside of them, flooding them; as if they’re trying to fit all the awareness and excitement and sensation of the _now_ and _them._

It’s Blaine that averts his gaze because it just feels like too much; he even feels like he could start crying at any moment for some reason. He closes his eyes and bites his lower lip and then he feels Sebastian’s leg nudging his under the table. He smiles and looks at him again. “Hey you,” he says.

  Sebastian smiles back. “Hi.” They stare at each other for a little while longer. “So, tell me about the program, is it everything you hoped it would be?”

  Blaine grins again. “Yeah, it is. I mean, it’s only been two days but yes, it’s amazing.” And then he starts telling Sebastian all about it, excitedly, almost bouncing on his seat.

  “You’re happy.” Sebastian didn’t mean to interrupt him; he could listen to Blaine talk like this for hours but it sort of flew out of him when he’d realized how he seems bigger and brighter than he’s ever seen him, how much life he has and how free he seems.

  “What?” Blaine asks, smiling.

  “You’re happy and -- It’s just nice --” _Wonderful, amazing, fantastic._ “-- seeing you happy.”

  Sebastian isn’t talking just about the momentary happiness, about this moments and Blaine understands that. It’s about him being satisfied with his choices, about being comfortable in his own skin, his own life, about being alive.

  “Yeah,” he says, “I really am.” The boy across from him nods. “How about you?”

  “Right now -- I’m overjoyed.” He winks and Blaine shakes his head.

  “And in general?” he urges.

  “I’m getting there,” he answers sincerely. Blaine feels, knows that he’s missing something but it’s okay, they have time to move closer, to confess and confide what they’re still keeping inside. He nods. Sebastian leans forward and splays his arm across the small table, palm upward, and wiggles his fingers a little as to ask for Blaine’s hand. The shorter boy smiles and places his palm in Sebastian’s and is immediately filled with the sensation of the _touch._ He’s glancing at Sebastian as he’s looking at their joined hands. He feels the light pressure, gentle movements of their fingers against and between each other’s; tender, shivering dance. He sees Sebastian’s lips stretching into a small, soft smile.

  “Bas,” he breathes.

  “What do we have here?!” comes a question from the side of the table. Blaine pulls his hand away more on instinct than anything else, missing the amused sound of the stranger’s voice.

  “What are you doing here?” Sebastian asks a boy who’s now sitting at the table as well; little too close to Sebastian if you ask Blaine.

  The blond boy smirks. “Well, I’ve been told that the infamous Blaine Anderson is in town and I just had to see what all the fuss is about, didn’t I?” By the time he finishes with his explanation his gaze is fixed on Blaine, eyeing him curiously.

  Blaine feels a little uneasy but also extremely pleased that yet another person in Sebastian’s life knows about him. He glances at his friend who at this moment is looking back, straining his neck, obviously trying to get Mélanie’s attention and when he does she just grins at him and he shakes his head, mumbling “Traitor.”

  “Oh, don’t blame Mel. I would’ve found out sooner or later,” he tells Sebastian and then turns to Blaine again, offering his hand. “Jesper Grønkjær,” the blond boy introduces himself.

  Blaine shakes his hand. “Nice to meet you and -- I guess there’s no need in me introducing myself.” Jesper grins and then turns to Sebastian and starts talking to him in a language that sounds like gibberish to Blaine; one of those Scandinavian languages, he assumes. He looks at Sebastian and sees that he’s rolling his eyes but doesn’t really seem annoyed at what the boy is telling him, or by the way he’s touching his arm. Blaine however, seems to be. “It’s not really polite, you know. Talking like this knowing I can’t understand you, especially when I’m the topic of the conversation.” Blaine is definitely surprised by the sassiness in his voice but something is simmering inside him, stirring and he doesn’t know what it is but apparently it brings out an attitude. He just doesn’t like this Jesper guy. Or how close he’s sitting to Sebastian. Or how he doesn’t seem to mind.

  “Feisty,” Jasper comments. “I like it.”

  Blaine doesn’t care what he thinks about him. He glances at Sebastian again who winks at him. “Among other things,” he says to Jasper but doesn’t look away. Blaine thinks he looks proud.

  “That I definitely believe. And I was actually telling Seb here how gorgeous you are,” the blond boys tells him and Blaine thinks this boy is flirting with him but then again he keeps touching Sebastian, who is just shaking his head. Blaine feels confused and -- and something nameless.

 “He’s here for the _CMCC_ program.” Sebastian announces. He’s definitely proud. And Blaine would probably be a puddle on the floor by now because of the way the green eyed boy is looking at him but he’s distracted by this other boy and this strange feeling inside his belly.

  “I’m gonna go, I know when I’m unwanted,” he smirks. “It’s been nice meeting you. I hope I’ll see you again, you really seem like everything Seb told me about you. You should come out with us one night.”

  “It’s been nice meeting you well,” Blaine says through a jagged lump in his throat. He doesn’t even blush, or if he does he’s completely unaware of it. “Yeah, sure, that sounds like fun.”

  He hears them exchange a goodbye and when Sebastian turns around he’s smiling and shaking his head, but then his smile fades when he notices the look on Blaine’s face. “He’s not that bad,” Sebastian says, “He’s just ---”

  Blaine starts to feel like a jackass. Because really, what did this boy do that seems to bother him so much? Nothing, actually. He was no different than Mélanie yet he couldn’t wait for him to leave and now all he sees is the juncture of Sebastian's neck and shoulder where the boy brushed his fingers when he was leaving. All he feels is a hot, nauseating feeling in his stomach. “No, he’s okay, I just --” Just what? He has no idea. “So, he’s Danish, right?”

  “Yes,” Sebastian answers after a moment. “He’s dad is a diplomat. He’s been living here for six, seven years now I think. And I’m sorry if he made you feel uncomfortable, he’s --- I guess he’s like me in some ways. You know, no tact.” He goes for a joke and Blaine knows what he’s doing and feels even worse because there should be no need for him to try and break this sudden tension between them. He sees that he looks confused, trying to figure out what is going on but Blaine feels confused as well.

  “He’s gay?” Blaine asks and feels weird for asking but it’s what he wants to know.

  Sebastian’s brow furrows a little. But then he smiles. “He doesn’t really do labels. What he is is a flirt. If you’re over seventeen and human he’ll hit on you”

  “Oh, so you didn’t -- I mean, you never hooked up with him?” He can’t understand why he’s asking this questions, why it’s all he can think about and why his own voice sounds strange to him.

  Sebastian’s face falls a little and he swallows, but situation is becoming clearer. “I did. A few times over the years.”

  “Oh.” Blaine averts his eyes.

  “Look, it didn’t mean anything,” he says and draws himself further up.

  “I know, it’s fine, it doesn’t matter,” but he’s still not looking at Sebastian.

  “Well, it obviously does matter,” Sebastian says, his voice harsher now. “If it didn’t you would be able to look at me.” He sounds hurt and it’s what causes Blaine to meet his eyes. He’s acting like a jerk, and now Sebastian thinks he cares about his past and he doesn’t and this is not about that but he doesn’t know what is it about.

  “I’m sorry, it doesn’t matter, really, I --”

  Sebastian’s expression softens and he teases lightly. “You’re jealous.”

  “I’m not,” Blaine replies quickly and not very convincingly.

  “You definitely are,” he smirks.

  Blaine isn’t jealous, he’s just upset that some guy was all over him, touching his arm all the time - few times, if we’re being honest - while Blaine was sitting right there. He’s not jealous, he’s upset that Sebastian didn’t mind any of it and now he’s making fun of him.

  “No, I’m not. I don’t care about you and _Jesper_. You can do whatever you like with whomever you like.”

  “Blaine -”

  “I think I’m gonna get going.” He says even though he doesn’t want to go anywhere. He doesn’t understand what is happening and how is it that they seem to be on a verge of a fight.

  “You’re gonna go?” Sebastian asks firmly. “What is it that you can’t handle? That I fucked some guy or that I’m still friends with him? Or just the fact that I fucked around? Because if you think I should apologize for that or for anyone else I fucked you can stop holding your breathe because that’s _never_ going to happen. I don’t regret it, none of it and if you think I should -- well, I can’t do anything about that, can I?” Blaine wanted to stop him immediately, the moment he realized what Sebastian was saying but he didn’t; he didn’t because he got choked by his own shame. He really didn’t care what he did, who or how many guys he slept with; this isn’t about that. It’s about --- jealousy. Yes, Sebastian was right. “Right,” Sebastian concludes bitterly, stands up and throws some money on the table and starts walking away and it’s only when Blaine sees his retreating form that he snaps himself out of his paralysis.

  When he exits the coffee shop the sudden change in temperature - cool, air-conditioned interior of the café versus the unusual late spring heat outside - makes him dizzy a little, or maybe it’s the feeling of his heart dropping into his stomach when he can’t see the tall boy anywhere. “Sebastian?!” he calls out but there’s no response and he feels something like panic start to rise up his spine. But then he notices him, sitting on the curb a little further down left from him, where the terrace of the coffee shop ends. He makes his way over and sits beside him.

  It’s little after six in the afternoon and the air is still heavy with heat and definitely too humid. It feels like rain; it feels like something needs to happen to dissipate this sticky, uncomfortable heaviness hovering everywhere. Everywhere and between the two of them.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t care about what you did or -- You were right, I guess I was jealous --” he hopes Sebastian will smirk and smile smugly, but he doesn’t.

  “No kidding,” he says and his voice is dry, “And how should I feel about this?” he asks and hands him his phone.

  Blaine presses play when he sees it’s a video file and his mouth feels like it’s filled with sand even though he doesn’t know what this is about; it’s Sebastian’s voice that makes something knot inside him unpleasantly. It’s a few seconds video but it shows very clearly him and Kurt kissing.

  “Sebastian, it’s not ---”

  “It’s not what? It’s not what it looks like?” he asks, sarcasm apparent. He snatches his phone back.

  “Don’t be an asshole and just let me explain.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t want to disappoint --”

  “You’re not an asshole, you just become one whenever you get defensive or scared.”

  “Thank you for that pop psychology 101 but --”

  “ _Stop_!” His voice breaks and it’s only when Sebastian turns and when Blaine sees the look in his eyes - concerned, soft, regretful - does he realize that his own eyes have welled up.

  “Shit, Blaine, I’m sorry -” he stretches his hand as to brush the few fallen tears away from Blaine’s cheeks but he stops. It reminds Blaine of all those months of Sebastian reaching but never touching and something tugs at his heart because he doesn’t want things to be like that between them, out of reach; he doesn’t want them to be out of reach. Blaine wipes the tears away quickly with the back of his hand. He really is surprised that he’s actually crying; he knows it’s not because of this, it’s being overwhelmed for the last hour, it’s feeling happy and hopeful and scared and yes, little regretful. He should’ve told him about the kiss.

  “No, it’s okay,” he assures him. “Just please let me explain.” Sebastian nods. “I went to the party Rachel invited me, two weeks ago. I hadn’t seen Kurt in months and hadn’t talked to him since we broke up and I thought maybe we could, I don’t know, try and be friends. He said he understands why I broke up with him and that he was okay with it. But later, he started telling me how ---”

  “He wants you back,” Sebastian cuts him off.

  Blaine nods and Sebastian averts his eyes, looking in front of him, to the people walking by. “Yes,” Blaine says but takes a hold of his hand, “But I told him that’s not what _I_ want, I told him I didn’t love him anymore and --- Bas look at me.” The boy does, hesitantly. “I told him there’s someone else.” It takes a long moment for Sebastian to process what Blaine said - comically long moment, something that Blaine will tease him about for years to come - but then a smile starts tugging at his lips.

  “Really?” Blaine nods. “And how did kissing happened then?”

  “He kissed me and I was a little drunk by then. I didn’t see it coming at all and --”

  Sebastian laughs, “Of course you didn’t - Mr. Oblivious.”

  “Shut up!” Blaine grins. He squeezes Sebastian’s hand. “I pulled away, what you saw in the video is all there is.” Sebastian nods. “And Bas -- I didn’t feel anything.”

  The boy regards him for a moment. “Really? Because if there’s still something there, something -- just tell me now because I---”

  “There isn’t. I mean, I care about him, I want him to be happy and I always will but -- I don’t want to be that person for him.” Sebastian is looking at him and Blaine lets him. There’s no words he could say to convince him how sure of that he is so he hopes he will see it in his eyes.

  “Good,” Sebastian says with a small smile but then the smile grows, laced with something wicked and playful, and he nudges his shoulder with his own. “Because if you told me you wanted to get back together with him I’d put you in a straitjacket.”

  Blaine laughs and moves a little closer - knee to knee, thigh to thigh - and loops his arm around Sebastian’s, leans his head on his shoulder. That’s what Sebastian wanted: more for Blaine than what Kurt was giving him. It was always like that; okay, maybe not from the start but for a long time he wanted Blaine to be happy more than he wanted him for himself and an amazing thing, Blaine knows, is that Sebastian isn’t even aware how special that is, how rare. “I guess you would be right in doing so,” Blaine jokes back and laughs at the disbelieving look Sebastian shoots him. “What? Didn’t you always insist he’s not right for me?”

  “Well, yeah. But you obviously saw something in him that I was never able to so I thought --I thought you'd always see just that part and not everything else.” He shrugs.

  Blaine just smiles at him and tries to get closer to Sebastian. The boy unhooks their arms only to fling his left one over his shoulder and tucks him tightly at his side. There’s no point in trying to hide the wide smile on his face. It’s so wonderful, sitting like this with Sebastian, on a Parisian pavement, on an unseasonably hot afternoon; the light wind has risen though and the air doesn’t feel so stuffed anymore.

  “Who sent you the video? Wait - who _took_ it?” Blaine asks.

  “Don’t know about the second part but Santana sent me an email,” Sebastian says and then chuckles. “I knew it wasn’t -- that you weren’t going back to him. Well, I was almost sure especially considering her comment but --- I guess there was a small part that thought you might  be reconsidering things and when you sort of fell from the radar last week I --”

  “Bas, I’m ---”

  Sebastian just shakes his head and tugs Blaine closer - tries to anyway since there’s no possibility of them being closer - as a way of assuring him it’s okay. “I know. And I was going to ask you about it but then --” he chuckles again. “-- things exploded a little.”

  Blaine laughs. “Yeah. And I’m sorry the way I acted.” He pulls away, just a little, so that he can look at Sebastian. “About Jesper --”

  Sebastian turns his head, raises his eyebrows curiously. “You’re not gonna say how you weren’t jealous, are you? Because that’s not going to fly,” he teases and nudges his shoulder again.

  Blaine shakes his head, chuckles and nudges back. “No, I wasn’t going to do that. What I was going to do was tell you that I meant it -- I don’t care what happened between you two or between you and anyone else.” He’s being honest, it doesn’t matter and he surely doesn’t think any less of him because of what he did for fun.

  Sebastian regards him for a moment and then smiles, “Thanks, killer.” He may not have the need to apologize nor does he regret this particular aspect of his life but he really does appreciate it not being held against him. “And by the way, now you know how I feel,” and smirks.

  Blaine shakes his head and laughs, little nervously, still having trouble dealing with that sudden, strange and unstoppable feeling that bubbled up inside of him. “I never felt anything like that before,” he confesses.

  “Oh, come on,” Sebastian pulls away a little to look at him, disbelievingly.

  Blaine blushes. “I’m serious.” He really is. Up until now jealousy was little more than a concept; he thought he’d experienced it but now he knows it was just a _thinking_ process, nothing more; not this _thing_ from deep within, this primal thing, unthinking thing, abrupt thing. He wanted to physically remove the blond boy away from Sebastian, he wanted to ask, no, demand that he sits further away, that he stops touching him, he wanted to throw himself around Sebastian and kiss him and just keep kissing him until Jesper and the whole world gets the point: Sebastian is his. They were such a wild, uncontrollable thoughts; unmannerly, uncivil, rude; very un-Blaine like. And maybe he should feel ashamed but he doesn’t; he can’t, not when the thoughts he had, the feelings he had were so intensely honest. “I’ve never felt so -- I can’t explain it. It just --” he blushes again and buries his face into Sebastian’s shoulder. “There was this guy, gorgeous with those ashy blue eyes -- I mean, seriously, who has eyes like that -- and he was just sitting there touching you and -- it’s not like you had a problem with it and I--” he stops himself, feeling silly and exposed.

  “You what?” Sebastian urges him gently.

  “I didn’t like it, okay? I mean, I know guys are all over you but it was one thing knowing that and the other _seeing_ it and -- look, I know I’m being silly and unreasonable or whatever and he’s your friend and he was just ---”

  “Blaine --”

  “-- being friendly but ---” He doesn’t understand how he can measure up, that’s what it boils down to, it seems. Because the first thing Blaine noticed is how incredibly good looking Jesper is, how good they look together and how comfortable Sebastian seems with him. He’d compressed himself so that only his insecurities had a voice and that voice was loud, telling him he could never measure against someone like that, handsome and worldly. Voice that made him forget all about the way Sebastian was looking at him, making him blind to the way Sebastian was looking at him at that _exact_ moment while he was too busy worrying and doubting himself and being jealous.

  “Hey, look at me,” Sebastian says. “It’s normal, it’s actually a good thing no matter how unpleasant. I like that you were jealous --” Sebastian puts a finger on Blaine’s lips for a second “ -- just as I know you like it when I am,” he adds, challenges him with his eyes to say it’s not true; Blaine can’t. Sebastian smirks. “Exactly. Honestly, I would be worried if we didn’t get jealous. I mean, I’m no expert in relationships but I think a little jealousy has nothing to do with trust.” Blaine nods, realizing that for the first time. He was never really jealous before, not of Karofsky not of Chandler not even of Adam. There were different feelings involved - hurt mostly, but never jealousy. He’d told himself it was because he trusted Kurt, because they were above that, because there simply was no logical reasons why he would be jealous but Sebastian is right, jealousy is illogical, irrational thing that has nothing to do, or very little, with trust. Trust, Blaine thinks now, helps quiet the green monster - the expression now making perfect sense to him - trust stops a person from going crazy but it doesn’t stop jealousy from appearing, doesn’t make it disappear. “Besides, it’s hot,” Sebastian whispers in his ear. “I wish I could peek inside your head and get a look at those ungentlemanly thoughts.”

  Blaine grins. “There’s _all_ kinds of ungentlemanly thoughts in there.” He feels Sebastian smirk against his ear and shivers a little, despite the warm temperature. He shifted a little; Sebastian's hand is drawing circles on his lower back, their knees are touching, his own hand is moving in similar patterns but stops at moments to just hold onto the boy next to him. He leans his forehead on his shoulder and closes his eyes when he feels Sebastian skimming his nose against the shell of his ear, bellow, his lips brushing his jaw. They are like that, sitting close on the sidewalk, forgetting about the world outside the two of them.

  “Oh, really? Like what?” he whispers again, hotly.

  Blaine bites his lips. “Maybe you’ll find out.”

  “Mmmm,” Sebastian hums, pleased. “I think I’ll take that as a promise.”

  Blaine is burning and shivering. He draws himself up and turns his neck and feels Sebastian lips brushing against it; barely touching. “You should,” he dares to say and feels lips stretching into a smile against his skin. Sebastian doesn’t say anything and Blaine can feel him breathing, just breathing him in and he shivers again.

  “Just for the record, you don’t need to be jealous of Jesper,” the green eyed boy says, “He has nothing on you.” He kisses his cheek then; a gentle touch but not hesitant. “No one does.” Blaine wants to say something but there’s too much he wants to say so he just nods and hugs Sebastian; puts his arms around him and pulls him on him and then Sebastian is holding him as well, drawing him up to him until Blaine is sitting on his lap. He buries his face in the side of his neck and breaths; they keep inhaling each other. Until Sebastian phone starts going off. “Shit, I forgot,” he says not letting go of the boy in his lap.

  “What?” Blaine asks, pulling away slightly, reluctantly.

  “I have dinner with my grandparents.”

  “Oh. You should go then,” Blaine says and tries to get off but Sebastian is holding him tightly.

  “I have time,” he smirks but after few moments he releases his hold on Blaine and the raven haired boy slides back next to him and instantly Sebastian tucks him close at his side. Blaine grins like a fool.

  They sit like that, their arms around each other; Blaine moves his fingers softly over Sebastian’s forearm - the one that’s around him - and sees there are little goose bumps forming on his skin and smile stretches across his face. There’s no point in denying how much pleasure it gives him knowing that he can affect him this way, with such a simple thing; how they affect each other. He leans his head against his shoulder. “I’m so happy you’re here,” he says, grinning, the excitement of the situation coming back at him with full force. They are here, together, in Paris.

  Sebastian chuckles. “I’m happy to be here as well.” Blaine chuckles before the other boy pulls away a little, watching him. “Are you hungry?”

  “What?”

  “Are you hungry? Because you could come with.” Truth is, now that the idea of food has been implanted in his mind he realizes he’s actually starving but that is not the reason why he wants to go. Sebastian is inviting him to meet his grandparents, people Blaine knows are very important to him, people he loves. That’s the reason why Blaine is smiling and nodding. The thought, just the fact that Sebastian wants him to meet them is filling him up with different kind of sustenance. He thinks he could live just on that. Or maybe not. Sebastian is chuckling when Blaine’s stomach makes a rumbling noise. “Come on, we’re going,” he says standing and offering a hand to Blaine.

  “Are you sure, because --”

  Sebastian cuts him off with a look that reads very clearly _Don’t be ridiculous_ but Blaine can’t help but feel nervous. What if they don’t like him, what if -- “Stop. They’re going to love you.”

  Blaine chuckles and shakes his head. “I swear, you’re like a mind reader or something.” The toll boy just smirks. When they make a turn Sebastian leans down and whispers, “I like the curls.”

  Blaine stops in his tracks and instinctively pats his hair. He completely forgot. Letting his hair breathe more freely has been a process. He still gels it down sometimes but not so violently so it has no volume whatsoever. But most days it’s like this: he uses hair products not to hide his curls but just to tame them. He looks at Sebastian and knows he’s blushing. “You do?” he asks shyly.

  Sebastian chuckles. “Of course.” And then moves closer, leans down, smirks. “They’re super hot.” Blaine laughs. Sebastian pulls himself to his full height and eyes the curly haired boy before him. He stretches his arms and pulls a few curls between his fingers and just watches him, takes him in. “I’m serious, you were always gorgeous as hell but now --” he stops, losing himself in the feeling of those soft curls under his fingertips.

  “Now what?” Blaine urges with confidence even though he can feel his cheeks burning.

  Sebastian smiles and shakes his head. “I don’t know,” he confesses, “I guess you made me speechless.” Blaine grins. “You like that don’t you?” Sebastian says, taking a hold of his hand and they start walking again.

  “Well, I think it’s only fair considering how many times you reduced me to a mumbling, stuttering mess.” Sebastian only smirks. “Exactly, so excuse me if I enjoy this rare occasion. I made Sebastian Smythe speechless,” he announces.

  Sebastian chuckles. “Enjoy away, but just for the record, it happens more often than you realize.”

  Blaine blushes even harder; _he_ is speechless now. Damn him.

 

 

 

  Blaine will not worry about meeting Sebastian’s grandparents because he will be too distracted by the fact that they’re walking hand in hand, fingers intertwined. He will be too happy with how perfect it feels and how completely comfortable Sebastian looks. The tall boy won’t let go of his hand, not even when they enter the big and beautiful house; only when it comes time for Blaine to shake hands with his grandparents will Sebastian untangle their fingers. He will introduce him as a friend but they are so much more than that - and everyone in the room will know it - and maybe they always were in a way: more than friends.

  Oh, and Sebastian will once again be proven right: his grandparents will absolutely love Blaine.

 

***

 

  Blaine has been nervous since the moment he woke up this morning. And now when they’re riding the _Métro_ , on the way to meet Sebastian’s mom, he feels his nerves even more distinctly; there’s a heavy tension in his shoulders and his stomach is jumpy and when he glances up at the boy next to him he doesn’t seem to feel much different.

  Blaine told him two days ago that it’s okay if he doesn’t want him to meet his mom, if he’d changed his mind. He had to say it, he had to because there was this strange feeling inside his stomach, because of the way Sebastian’s eyes fill with something heavy, shadowy every time his mom is mentioned. He assured him it’s what he wants and Blaine believes him, he does yet can’t help but feel apprehensive and anxious.

  He glances up again and Sebastian offers him a smile, one of those smiles that are not really smiles at all, just an empty gesture of lips turning slightly upwards. Blaine tried to prepare himself for what is expecting him but it is impossible; how do you prepare yourself for the unknown? For anything? He wanted to ask Sebastian something, he wanted to ask him why he looks so sad and there was even a moment yesterday when it seemed like he was about to tell him something but he didn’t, just offered him that smile that never reaches his eyes and said he’ll pick him up at six. And Blaine didn’t want to push because he could easily see that no matter how uneasy he’s feeling things are much more difficult for his friend.

  “Few more minutes,” Sebastian tells him. Blaine nods. He wishes he could compare this to meeting his grandparents but it’s not the same, not at all. He was nervous then as well, but not this kind of nervous, no. Everything is different now. Sebastian isn’t telling him _Stop overthinking, she’s going to love you,_ he isn’t smirking and he isn’t holding his hand. Blaine sees how he tries to be as nonchalant as possible, how his expression offers very little but now he wonders if this front isn’t so much for him but more for himself. A thought occurs to him, suddenly and he reacts instinctively by taking a hold of his hand. He feels Sebastian tense up and sees him swallow but he doesn’t pull away and after few moments he relaxes his hand and their fingers enlace together. Sebastian is the one that needs reassurance, encouragement, comfort, that’s what he realized. For what, Blaine doesn’t know. What he does know is that Sebastian is taking him somewhere very personal, he is about to reveal another part of him, a secret and painful part and all Blaine wants is for Sebastian to know that he understands and appreciates the trust he is putting into him. All he needs to say is _I’m here_. And he does so by squeezing his hand and offering a smile.

  

  Blaine notices they arrived at their station before Sebastian says anything, before he even moves, just by the way he tensed up again and how his hold on his hand tightened.

 

  Few minutes of walking and they’re standing in front of the creamy-white building and even though Blaine’s knowledge of French is rudimentary at best he realizes what it is. A nursing facility. He shivers with the sensation like someone just ran an ice cube down his spine, and already there are pins and needles spreading up and down his arms and legs; a clear sign of fear and he is overwhelmed with the desire to run. There’s nothing good inside this building, he knows that and maybe, maybe if they don’t go in then he can ignore the cruelness of reality. If he closes his eyes and wishes hard enough perhaps he can conjure up a different world, a world where Sebastian doesn’t have this haunted expression on his face.

  “Are you sure?” Sebastian asks him now when Blaine has a better understanding of the situation.

  Blaine nods and squeezes his hand. He can’t run away from this, he can’t wish for another reality. His mind is racing and another shiver runs down his spine when they enter the building. He feels a little dazed because of all the sad, sympathetic smiles Sebastian is getting and if Blaine could’ve thought of some scenario that is not completely desperate it would disperse under these looks. They stop for a moment when Sebastian starts talking to an older man - in his early fifties - and even though he can’t understand what they’re saying, he sees that the man is smiling that same non-smile Blaine is now familiar with and the atmosphere is somber. Even when the man actually laughs it’s still sad around the edges. Everything, the entire place - expensive, beautiful even - feels layered with forced optimism and he feels like crying. He realizes that most of the people he saw had the same expression on his face - no matter if they were smiling, laughing or crying - they all seemed stuck in some permanent, haunted way. He feels Sebastian squeeze his hand and when he looks up he sees his friend laughing at something the other man said. They obviously know each other pretty well. Blaine can’t help but notice the easiness between the two, and his heart breaks when he thinks how many hours, days, weeks, months he must have spent here for this kind of familiarity to settle.

  Sebastian looks down at him, smiles, and looks back up at older man who’s standing in front of half open room with a _Deschamps_ written on the door. If Blaine shifts a little he would probably be able to see inside but he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to see what kind of tragedy resides in there. “This is a friend of mine,” Sebastian says in English and tugs at Blaine’s hand a little, “Blaine Anderson.”

  Blaine is a little thrown but he remembers his manners and offers his hand to the fair-haired man.

  “Ansel Deschamps,” the man says, “It’s nice meeting one of Sébastien’s friends. I was starting to worry he doesn’t have any,” he teases in a slightly accented voice.  

  “Nice to meet you as well,” Blaine says and looks up at his friend. Is he really the first person Sebastian brought here? He feels a little unsteady and the boy next to him seems to sense it because he unclasps their hands and places his palm on Blaine's back, moving it in a gentle, reassuring up and down motion.

  The man says something, in French again, but then they’re saying goodbye and Sebastian is guiding them further down the hall and then up the stairs to the second floor. “Are you okay?” he asks him.” Blaine nods even though he’s not okay but this isn’t about him, the last thing he wants is for Sebastian to worry about _him._

They make a stop in front of the door with _Bergenoir_ written on it. Blaine sees Sebastian hesitate for a moment so he takes a hold of his hand again.

  This is what Blaine sees: big, nicely furnished, light filled room and a bed with an unmoving, sleeping woman; he sees machines and IV drip and drainage bag hooked to the side of the bed; he sees a young woman moving around the bed, smiling and her lips are moving so she must be saying something but Blaine honestly can’t hear her over the sound of his heart pounding inside his own head. He wishes, wishes this isn’t real but to no avail, this is the only available reality and Blaine feels his eyes sting. He is barely aware of Sebastian introducing him again to a young woman - a nurse, Kérane - but manages to smile back, he thinks.

  When they’re alone Sebastian moves them closer to the bed and Blaine is struck by how beautiful the woman lying there is, even like this, looking so lifeless and pale. “Blaine Anderson, I’d like you to meet my mom, Geneviève Bergenoir. _Maman_ , _this_ is Blaine,” and smiles, actually smiles with his eyes shining and Blaine manages to croak out “Nice to meet you,” before tears start falling. He tries to stop them, he tries to swallow them down because this isn't about him, he doesn’t want this to be about him and his inability to hold himself together but it’s just too much, it’s too heartbreaking. “Hey, no, don’t cry, please,” Sebastian pleads and pulls him into a hug and Blaine grips him tightly. “I’m sorry --- I should’ve told you and not just ---”

  Blaine shakes his head furiously against his chest but doesn’t want to let go. “No, I’m okay,” he tries to convince both of them, “You know me, I’m a crier, that’s all,” he jokes a little and looks up at Sebastian, smiles through his tears and the tall boy smiles back. He just needs a moment, a moment to compose himself so he buries his face in the crook of Sebastian's neck, holding him tightly and just breathes. “I’m so sorry, Sebastian,” he says. Like that is enough, like that can even come close to being enough, like that can change anything. He feels Sebastian nodding.

  “Yeah it sucks.” A laugh escapes from Blaine’s throat and for a second he feels ashamed but then he looks up at Sebastian and the boy is smiling, obviously satisfied that he managed to shake Blaine up. He gently brushes his tears away with his thumb before he leans down and kisses the top of his head. “Come here,” he says and leads them both to sit in two chairs next to the bed.

 

  Sebastian tells him all about the car accident at the end of his freshman year that put his mom in a coma; drunk driver, red light, wrong place, wrong time. “This isn’t the reason why I was such a jerk when we met, but it also didn’t help.” He tells him about his parents’ divorce a year before and how he was actually relieved but then the entire process ended up being hard and ugly and too much. He tells him how he hadn’t dealt with things, how he swallowed them down and kept them as far away from his mind as possible. He tells him how out of control he became during his sophomore year; drinking, partying, fucking. “I guess I thought I wanted to escape everything but it turns out it was me I was running away from. Funny thing, you can’t really escape yourself,” he says with a hollow chuckle. He tells him how pissed he was when his father decided it would be best if he came live with him in the States. “‘Living with him’ meaning dumping me in Nowhere, Ohio.” He tells him how torn he was about leaving Paris, how even though he wasn’t dealing with what happened to his mom he still didn’t want to leave her. “She’s a brilliant mathematician,” he says proudly. He tells him about their relationship, how it became a little strained as he got older, as he started to close himself up more and more. He tells him how he never doubted that she loves him and tells him how much fun they would have on days when they would forget about everything and just have fun; movies, shopping, eating sweets by the _Seine_ , sunbathing in the parks, going to football games -soccer games - exploring and getting lost in _Albert Kahn’s gardens_ or just walking through Paris, talking. “She always got me, even when I started to lose myself,” he says. He tells him how he started to make audio recordings last year; he would send files to his _mémé_ and she would play them for her. “There’s nothing she doesn’t know about me. And I mean nothing,” he adds and winks at Blaine.

  “Sebastian -- You didn’t - you didn’t really tell --”

  He chuckles. “I didn’t have to. She knows me and my naughty mind.”

  Blaine laughs.

 

 Sebastian gets up from his chair and sits on a bed next to her. He thinks about one of the last conversations they had; about love of all things. He remembers rolling his eyes, not understanding how she could still believe in it after everything that happened. He was so sure, so utterly convinced thinking there is no such thing as love; it was just some illusion people dreamt up, nothing real, nothing tangible. His mom laughed and kissed his head. He remembers being annoyed at how easily he was being dismissed, how sure she was of herself. “One day some boy will knock you off your feet and then you’ll remember this conversation,” she told him. He huffed and she laughed again. It turns out she was right and he wishes he could tell her that.

 

 Blaine gets up as well and stands beside Sebastian, watching as he brushes her blond hair away from her face. “She’s sounds incredible,” he says, “Are you’re sure you’re not adopted?” he teases and hopes that’s okay because he doesn’t know what else to say; he knows Sebastian doesn’t want any more of those empty platitudes, no matter how well intentioned. And what else can he offer? _Everything will be fine?_ He hopes for it, closes his eyes and wishes for it but he remembers reading about coma survival rates somewhere in one of his high school biology textbooks and knows the odds are not on her side.

  Sebastian turns to look at him and Blaine releases a holding breath when he sees that the green eyed boy is smiling. “She would’ve loved you.” Blaine reaches for his hand but the door opens and a woman enters and greets Sebastian - not very warmly - in French. He is introduced to his aunt Cosette who offers him a cold, strained smile. He watches Sebastian kiss his mother and whisper something and then they’re leaving. “Sorry about that. My mom and her sister had a falling out and things are still tense between Cosette and the rest of the family,” Sebastian explains in broad terms. “She doesn’t approve of me,” he adds just as they step outside into the balmy Parisian evening.

  “Is that why your mom and ---”

  “No. It’s just a sisterly jealously that escalated through the years and me being gay is just one more thing Cosette can complain about.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Sebastian shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter, she’s just a bitch who happens to be related to me. She was always like that, envious, blaming everyone for her problems, bitching how _mémé_ and _pépé_ loved my _maman_ better.”

  

  Blaine sees how drained he looks, how exhausted and wonders how much it takes from him every time seeing his mom like that, stuck in between the living and the dead. How it must be a constant struggle to hope but not hope too much; it’s a hope without hoping, a dull kind, empty and stale. He knows he can’t understand, he can’t possibly comprehend the kind of limbo Sebastian is stuck in: unable to mourn, unable to move forward, unable to go back. Just stuck. He can’t know what it feels like to not know where your parent is: is she dreaming some peaceful dream? Is she stuck in a nightmare? Or is she completely unaware of everything and herself, floating aimlessly in some empty space? He understands now why Sebastian closed himself off so completely, from everything and from himself. When something like this happens what can you do? Live your life like nothing is wrong? Break down? Or treat the whole world like some big cosmic joke? He had to do it, didn’t he? To keep himself sane, to keep himself stitched together. How do you live your life in the constant land of unknowing, spinning inside the constant state of uncertainty? Blaine takes a hold of Sebastian’s hand and leads him towards this tiny, peaceful park he just noticed.

  “Come on,” he says and guides him towards the little playground and sits on the swing.

  “I know what you’re doing, I’m fine,” he tells him but sits on a swing as well, facing opposite direction.

  “I know you are. I just want to swing, is that so surprising?” He grins innocently.

  Sebastian chuckles. “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me,” he says seriously.

  Blaine stops his movements. “I’m not.” He eyes Sebastian, determined to make the boy believe him, because how he feels about him, what he feels for him has nothing to do with pity.

  “I miss her.” A simple statement but so full of longing, full of agony for being utterly helpless to do anything about it.

  Blaine feels his heart break again. He wishes there’s something he could say, something comforting but there’s nothing so he just laces their fingers together. “Thank you, for trusting me so much.”

  Sebastian nods and then chuckles. “Well, it was time she met you since she already knows all about you.”

  Blaine blushes when he thinks about Sebastian making those recordings for her, telling her about him. He hears Sebastian chuckles again and feels him letting go of his hand. When he looks at him he just smiles and actually starts swinging. Blaine smiles back and swings as well.

  He’s thankful for being here, for being alive and healthy and with Sebastian. He’s thankful that all the people he cares about are alive and healthy as well and hopes nothing will happen to change that. When he reaches a full height he lets himself exclaim a sort of _wahoo yoo-hoo_ sound of excitement and hears Sebastian laugh with a “What are you, five?” and he’s quick to answer with a grin “And a half.” But all he thinks is _I’m just happy I exist. That we exist. Together._

 

 

***

 

“Here you go,” Sebastian says as he reappears and throws a can of soda at Blaine before sinking down on the sofa next to him.

  “Thanks.”

  

  It’s the end of Blaine’s third week in Paris and if you ask him to describe his time here with one word he would tell you that’s impossible. But perfect comes close. Or marvelous. Magic. Or any other similar adjective. He spends his mornings and early afternoons in school, in different workshops and classes and his late afternoons, evenings and yes, nights with Sebastian.

  They go to the movies, shows - obscure and renowned, brilliant and absolutely terrible; they have picnics in the park or on the banks of _Seine_ , afternoon picnics or sunset picnics, dinners at restaurants and on those houseboats-turned-bars.

  Sebastian relented and took him to all touristy attractions: the _Louvre, Notre Dame,_ they walked across _Pont des Arts_ and _Pont Neuf,_ stepped on both _Île de la Cité_ and _Ile St. Louis,_ walked on _Champs-Elysées_ and stood beneath the _Arc de Triomphe,_ and of course, climbed the _Eiffel Tower._ In the end Sebastian admitted he enjoyed it as well; he knew why he loved Paris but now he remembered why people from all around the world do as well. “Yeah, it’s hard to be jaded here,” he joked. He also said he loved watching Blaine’s eyes lit up at _everything._ They ended up taking bike rides and boat rides along the _Seine,_ day rides and night rides - a completely different experience - enjoying each other and the view of the city fanning out before them.

  Sebastian showed him _his_ Paris: his favorite neighborhoods and streets, gardens, _cafés,_ ice cream shops.They drink coffee or ice tea or chilled _rosé_ on sun-drenched terraces, legs touching beneath the tables. They take long strolls with no destination in mind, often holding hands, or tucked into each other’s sides, talking or not talking at all, just basking in the atmosphere of the city: people mingling about, laughing and talking - sounds of different languages mixing together and blending into something vibrant and exciting, charming bands serenading the crowds, caricature artist making portraits, kids playing soccer in parks. They wander the streets that Blaine finds absolutely charming and beautiful, looking at lively storefronts, browsing in bookstores, eating _Nutella_ crêpes.

  They go out with Sebastian’s friends or with friends Blaine made. They visit all kinds of cutsey, artsy, rustic establishments or go to karaoke and sing and goof all night. Two weeks ago both groups  went out together, on a night of the _Fête de la Musique_ when it seemed like every tourist and every Parisian ventured outside in search of free concerts that would pop up all around the city, all wishing to enjoy the city being overflown with music.  

  Yesterday he and Sebastian spent the entire afternoon in _La Coulée verte_ \- this hidden garden that is hovering above the city - just one more piece of Paris Blaine fell in love with. They were enveloped by all the green and flowery, branches of bamboo waving at them and there was a heavy, sweet scent of lavender in the air; Sebastian told him it was his favorite place when he wants an escape from the noises of the city. They stayed there, talking, laughing until the sky turned pink and sun started to set.

  There are evenings and nights, however, when they stay inside, having movie or TV marathons. Evenings like this one. On the menu tonight:   _Preston Sturges_ movies, popcorns, pizza, soda and mangoes. They finished _Unfaithfully Yours_ and now are at the beginning of _The Lady Eve._

 

  “I’m sorry I was late for dinner but I swear _mémé_ planned it like this. I think she knew I’d have to stay in the gallery longer.”

 They had dinner with Sebastian’s grandparents early this evening and Sebastian was late, leaving Blaine alone with his grandmother. Blaine laughs because he is pretty certain Sebastian is right; there’s no mistaking where he got some of his mischievousness.

  “Oh, that’s okay. I doubt you’d allow her to show me all those pictures and tell me stories of the young Sebastian Smythe.” Blaine grins. He loved listening to every little detail grandma Bergenoir was sharing with him.

  “Yeah, and she knew that.” Sebastian shoots him a smile before sinking further down on the sofa and pressing _play_ on the remote. Blaine wants to watch the movie but he’s a little distracted by something he saw no more than five minutes ago in Sebastian’s bathroom cabinet. He sees and hears Sebastian laugh and he looks so relaxed and comfortable and he really doesn’t want to ruin the mood, which he will definitely do if he asks what he wants to ask.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  Sebastian doesn’t turn his eyes away from TV and after chuckling again says, “If it’s about my _Linus_ phase I don’t think I can help you.”

  Blaine can’t help but chuckle remembering all those photos of Sebastian dragging around a green blanket. “No, it’s not about that,” and his voice must have betrayed him because Sebastian presses _pause_ and turns to look at him.

  “What is it?”

  Well, no point in backtracking now. “I used your bathroom when you were downstairs and -- I didn’t snoop, I was just looking for a band aid --” he sticks his hand out to show him a bandaged thumb. He didn’t realize he’d cut himself, probably earlier cutting mangoes, until he was washing his hand and his thumb started to sting. “-- and I saw --”

  “Yeah,” it’s all Sebastian says when he cuts him off. He averts his eyes.

  The little orange bottle, that’s what Blaine saw. Antidepressants. “You don’t have to tell me I just want you to know that you _can_ , if you want to, that it doesn’t change anything.” Truth is, that is all he wanted to say; an assurance, a reminder, nothing more.

  “I -- Shit! Look it’s no big deal, okay?” He runs his hand through his hair and leans his elbows on his knees.

  He understands why Sebastian didn’t mention it. When he thinks about it there simply wasn’t a moment for something like that - although, there probably never is. He considered usual reasons why he would be reluctant to share this with him while he was waiting for Sebastian to come back up with their drinks, like shame and embarrassment, but he quickly realized that wasn’t it. He didn’t want Blaine to see him any differently and more importantly, he didn’t want to give excuses. He sees Sebastian is about to get up so he puts his arms on his right one, “Please don’t. It’s fine and I know why you don’t want to talk about it.”

  “You mean besides the obvious reasons?” he asks dryly, not looking at Blaine but doesn’t try to get up.

  “Yes. You never want to talk about things and people that hurt you because you think that's the same as giving excuses for the mistakes you’ve made. But it’s not the same. There is a difference between reasons and excuses. There are always reasons for things we do but that doesn't mean you can’t take responsibility for them, and -- Bas, you did.”

  Sebastian leans back and releases some kind of huffing noise and rolls his eyes but he’s smiling as well. “God, you sound like my therapist.”

  Blaine smiles back at him. “Meaning I’m right.”

  Sebastian turns his head slightly to look at him. “Maybe, I’m working on it. Obviously.”

  He takes a deep breath and tells Blaine everything: He’s been seeing shrinks since he can remember. His parents - his father - sent him to see a therapist when he was nine and he was diagnosed with _ADHD_ and put on _Ritalin_. “It only made me more hyper which should’ve been a clue for any idiot that I didn’t have it but no,” he laughs dryly. He tells Blaine about bouncing from one shrink to another - “From one bought, incompetent, greedy idiot to another” _-_ and being put on so many drugs he can’t even recall all of them. He tells him how he stopped taking whatever his was prescribed when he was fourteen and his then doctor diagnosed him with _bipolar disorder_ and wanted to put him on _Lithium._ “I guess that’s the only thing no one diagnosed me with before so he had to,” and laughs dryly again. “Fuck, I mean, I didn’t even think anything was wrong with me until everyone started to tell me there was.”

  Blaine feels sick; this is why people don’t trust psychiatrist. “There wasn’t,” Blaine assures him. “You just have a lot of energy and I can only assume you always did.”

  Sebastian smiles, a real smile. “Yeah, I was easily bored but I liked doing things. That’s why I had so many school activities, you know, sports, dance, choir, debate.” Blaine smiles back at him, reminded how talented Sebastian is in so many things. “Anyway, by the time I actually needed some help I’d had enough of professionals so I didn’t even consider whatever crap they were selling.”

  “And now?”

  “Now I know they have something to offer,” he smirks but then his face falls, and Blaine sees him swallow. “After all that crap that happened with you -- what I did and then fucking Karofsky I -- I felt really bad, I did but after that first wave I was just numb and I wanted to feel something, anything but there was just -- nothing. And I should’ve gone and see someone then but of course I didn’t -- “ he shakes his head. “Instead I did what I’ve always done. You know, sex, drinking but when the school started I was still -- I don’t know, empty.” Blaine feels himself shiver listening to Sebastian talk, listening to him describe how he himself felt just seven months ago. “So, then I decided to try and get some help. It took me three tries before finding Dr. Whineman and now I’m here, with a bottle of antidepressants.” Sebastian glances at Blaine but then continues. “It sucked at first, you know, all those delightful feelings of self-hatred, self-disgust came first, hard -” he pauses to chuckle but it’s a flat sound -- “but things started to get better. She’s been reducing my dosage for the last three months so when I finish this bottle I’m done.”

  Blaine squeezes his arm. “That’s great.”

  “Yeah, it is but I’m freaking out a little,” he confesses.

  Blaine smiles but then he swallows; there’s just one thing he needs to ask. “Did you --” he pauses and swallows again. How do you ask someone this? “Did you ever tried --”

  Sebastian quickly shakes his head and Blaine is yet again grateful for his ability to read minds. “No, I didn’t. I was self-destructive, yes but no, nothing like that.”

  Blaine releases a breath and nods and curls up closer to Sebastian. “You’re dad really sucks.” He says after a few moments of silence.

  Sebastian laughs. “After everything I just told you _that’s_ what you have to say?”

  Blaine laughs a little as well but yes, that is what is on his mind. What kind of parent sends his nine year-old son to a therapist and puts him on heavy medication just because he doesn’t want to deal with him, just because the boy is too smart, with too much energy and gets bored easily. The idea that he allowed all those doctors to try and erase parts of him, to stifle and strangle everything that makes Sebastian _Sebastian_ is making him angry. Real, blood-boiling anger. The thought that someone would want to make Sebastian any different than he is breaks his heart. Because he is so amazing, so beautiful just the way he is: opinionated, self-assured, blunt, insecure about how much good he has in him, wicked smart, talented, sharp, funny, curious, sarcastic with a hidden sweet side, caring side. “Yes, because I should’ve told you before. With everything you told me I should’ve told you more often that you don’t deserve to be treated like he treats you and --” he pauses to look at him. “Jeff told me how he didn’t believe you when you told him you didn't know about the steroids.”

  Sebastian sits up straighter suddenly and puts some distance between them and whatever reaction Blaine expected this isn’t it. He’s confused.

  “Yeah, but I guess he did have a point there,” he says and glances at Blaine who is now even more confused, brow furrowing. “Right,” he huffs dryly, self-deprecatingly and starts to get up but Blaine’s arm stops him again.

  “No, don’t do that. I’m not making any assumptions but you’re obviously not telling me something. You told me you didn’t know about the steroids.”

  “I guess I lied,” he spats out defiantly. If Sebastian told him this then Blaine wouldn’t think twice about leaving it at that and accepting it as the truth but not now; too much has happened since then, he knows him and he knows that the guilt makes him take more responsibility than he needs too.

  “I don’t believe you,” he says firmly. Sebastian obviously didn’t expect this kind of conviction because he looks at him, wide-eyed. It breaks his heart a little. “Just tell me what you’re not telling me.”

  Sebastian gets up and starts pacing the room, running his hand through his hair. Blaine has never seen him so nervous, almost rattled, so _physically_ anxious. After everything he’s ever told him, after what he just finished telling him he can’t understand what can it be to make him so restless, he looks like he wants to run away, but run away from what? Finally he sits down on the floor next to his bad. Blaine hesitates for a moment but makes his way over to him and sits beside him.

“Remember how I told you I don’t regret anything when it comes to who I had sex with?” Blaine nods even though he doesn’t understand where this conversation is going and what this has to do with steroids; still, something is twisting unpleasantly in his stomach. “Well, that’s not true. Hunter Clarington is definitely something I regret.”

  There’s a long moment when neither of them say anything; Sebastian glancing nervously at Blaine and Blaine trying to process what he just heard. He must have heard wrong.

  “But Hunter is straight,” he says dumbly, at last.

  Sebastian laughs with that dry laugh. “He is if you ask him.”

  “I don’t understand,” Blaine says, again dumbly.

  Sebastian inhales and then exhales with an “I don’t either,” and goes to stand up but Blaine stops him yet again. Maybe he should let him tell the story from a distance but he can’t; he needs them to stay close, he needs Sebastian to know that it’s okay, that he isn’t going to judge and that he isn’t going anywhere. He offers a smile, an encouraging one, when the boy meets his eyes. Moments pass when Sebastian is staring at his hands but then he starts. “When he came and commandeered the Warblers I mostly didn’t care but I liked that he was the person everyone was bitching about for a change. I mean, it’s not like it mattered but it started to become a little old being in the group of people who hate your guts, who are making scenarios in their heads about how to kill you and get away with it.” He pauses. “And the fucking -- I don’t know, I thought he was just like me or even worse than me and I liked that, I didn’t have to feel like I don’t measure up or some shit. It was at the time I started seeing Michelle - Dr. Whineman,” Sebastian clarifies “and -- I really hated myself then and I don’t know -- I think he got off on that. I mean, everything turned very empty, very ugly I-- I thought I had things under control but he read me like an open book, I mean no one ever manipulated me and I didn’t even realize it -- but I guess I had that one coming,” he adds self-deprecatingly. “And he used things I felt -- Or I guess I let him use it --- things I felt for you and what I --”

  “Bas --” Blaine wanted to interrupt him so many times but he bit his tongue knowing Sebastian needed to get this out but when he heard this and how choked Sebastian's voice sounded he couldn’t stay quiet anymore.

  Sebastian yanks his hand away, the one Blaine was holding. “Fuck Blaine, I let him fuck me while he was shooting fucking steroids into their asses!” He gets up then, quickly. Blaine feels sick for some reason and dizzy and sees Sebastian pacing again before he sits against the window. Blaine sees that he’s shaking. “Fuck I was so --” he stops himself and shakes his head but he doesn’t have to say it for Blaine to know. Desperate. Full of self-loathing. Lonely. “I knew he was doing something. I didn’t know what but I didn’t care. If I wanted to know I’d know. So yes, I am responsible.”

  “No, it’s not the same thing!” Blaine stands up quickly. “Jeff told me about the video Hunter had of his sister so even if you knew there’s nothing you could’ve done that they didn’t think about as well, and you know it. He used that and Nick’s fear of his parents finding out he’s gay to keep their mouth shut. What could you have done except go to the headmaster? Hunter would’ve been kicked out and Warblers wouldn’t have a ruined reputation but Zoey - he could’ve still post that video and Nick’s parents would’ve cast him aside and disinherit him.” By the time he’s done talking he realizes he’s out of breath and shaking as well. “This is on Hunter, and _only_ on him.”

  Sebastian is looking at him, impressed and skeptical. “Sure, there’s nothing I could’ve done but if I wasn’t such an asshole year before Hunter wouldn’t have an in in the first place, and you know that.”

  Blaine sits on the window beside him. “You really need to forgive yourself for that. I did. Everyone did.” Sebastian raises an eyebrow and Blaine laughs quietly, “Everyone that matters. So please, just -- just let it go.”

  “Don’t cry, please. It’s so fucked up you trying to make me feel better for what I did to you.”

  “I can’t help it, it breaks my heart when I see how much that still eats at you --” He wonders if that is what is holding Sebastian back, the thought that he doesn’t deserve him, that he’ll never deserve him. He stands up and moves in front of him, nudges his legs open so that he can stand between them, close to him. He runs his fingers through his thick, soft locks and sees Sebastian fighting it but then his eyes close. “This incredible guy once told me that a mistake doesn’t define me. And guess what, he was right.” Sebastian opens his eyes and Blaine catches that he wants to say something, probably something like _What about a lot of mistakes_ but Blaine forestalls him from saying it by placing two fingers on his lips. He loses himself for a moment, his whole world reducing itself to the sensation of Sebastian’s lips against his fingertips, but he manages to shake himself out of it. “So please, forgive yourself. It won’t mean you forgot about it or that you don’t regret it -- it will just allow you to move forward.” He keeps watching the boy in front of him - now, unusually, at the same eye level - but his eyes close when he feels Sebastian’s hands around him, tugging him even closer.

  

  It is what is holding him back and Blaine can’t do anything about it but be here; he can’t force Sebastian to forgive himself no more than he can make him see how sure he is about what he wants: _him,_ all of him. Sebastian needs to be sure about Blaine’s certainty and he understands that. And they’ll get there, he knows it. He can wait; not that it isn’t difficult, especially now when they’re together, when they can see each other and touch each other, when he hears Sebastian speak French, a lot. But the truth is, a big part of him is glad that it’s taking them so long, a part of him that had remembered how to again appreciate the little things. How many people in life, in books complain about missing things while they were happening? Overlooking details, forgetting the here and the now, isn’t that what people end up regretting? Blaine enjoys every moment, every second, committing it to memory. He is fully in the present, savoring what will later be the _before._ And it is amazing, spectacular in a quiet, intimate way. Being so fully aware of everything - every touch, every brush of fingers, every warm whisper over his ear, every stretch of his lips and every vibration of his laughter - is such an incredible sensation.

    

 “I’ll work on it, I promise,” Sebastian vows and Blaine leans down and kisses his forehead, and his left temple, and the right one. He feels Sebastian tightening his hold on him and something curls inside of him. He kisses his cheeks, his jaw, his neck. Everywhere but his lips; it isn’t the time, not now. He waited and Sebastian had waited even longer so they can hold back a little more, until Sebastian accepts that this is real, that Blaine isn’t going anywhere. Until he trusts in what he feels.

  They stay like that, holding onto each other, breathing.

  Blaine pulls away then. “Can I ask you something? It’s about Hunter and what you said --” he trails off, unable to say it. It threw him off, it did, especially when Sebastian said --

  “You mean about him fucking me?” No sugarcoating. Blaine nods. He would probably smile at how matter-of-fact he is about it; he would’ve smiled if he didn’t know that the reality is very different here. He feels Sebastian tense up but he doesn’t move, still holding Blaine tightly, his arms clasped around his lower back. Blaine places his right hand at the back of Sebastian’s neck, rubbing soothingly. “I don’t know,” he shrugs, “I’ve never really thought about bottoming before, not really, not until --” he pauses and smiles self-consciously. “-- well, until you. And it’s not like I really wanted to then -- I mean, I did I just --” he pauses again and shuts his eyes. It is unusual for Sebastian to stumble and stutter, always eloquent, always articulate but Blaine learned that emotions have the power to render even the most well-spoken people incoherent. So when Sebastian is halting and faltering like this he knows what it means: he is completely overpowered. “-- I guess some desperate part of me wanted to be fucked by another asshole, I guess I thought I deserved that. I don’t know, everything was so fucked up and ugly and it’s like I wasn’t even there, you know, like I wasn’t myself. I mean, sex was never a big deal for me, it was something to blow off steam, to get off, have fun. Just one more thing to do, nothing more or less. I mean, I obviously used it as a distraction as well but it was never -- it was never empty, you know, desperate or something. Really screwed up,” he shrugs again. Blaine feels sick. He understands that kind of desperate loneliness, he understands loathing yourself so much that only thing you think you deserve is exactly that: dirtiness and ugliness; more self-hatred. He embraces him again and holds tightly.

  He replayed every moment they had ever shared together so many times these past months, all the moments of before and after, but he never thought about what life was like for Sebastian in between. He feels tears welling in his eyes realizing how lonely he was, how lost. He remembers phone calls that went unanswered, voicemails erased never listened, texts never replied to.

  “I’m sorry and I’m sorry I didn’t know how it was for you, I’m sorry I wasn’t there --”

  “Don’t, okay, it wasn’t your fault. Of course you didn’t want to talk to me after the slushie and everything,” he pulls away so that Blaine can look at him. “I didn’t want to talk to myself,” he smiles and Blaine is a little surprised how light his voice is.

  Blaine smiles back and nods. “I know, but I still shouldn’t have cut you off like that. We’d been friends and I saw how sorry you were that day at _Lima Bean_ , you know, before Regionals-- I saw that there was-- But I think I was just relieved I’ve been given an out, you know. A reason to push you away or to push myself away because I was --” he feels himself blush all of a sudden and his eyes fall down and the smile is tugging at his lips.

  “You were what?” Sebastian urges, squeezing at his waist.

  Blaine looks up. “I was feeling something, things I wasn’t supposed to and you -- _you_ just had this way of drawing me in, making me forget about everything, even then, and it terrified me and I didn’t know what to do about it. So when you threw that slushie that was my out. I didn’t have to deal with it, with what it all meant or what it could become.”

  Sebastian kisses his cheek and then laughs. “Good to know I wasn’t imagining things, or being the only one that was scared shitless.”

  Blaine shakes his head and lets Sebastian pull him against him. He feels his hand making slow circles on his lower back, his own fingers playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. He feels himself melt under his gaze, those green eyes making his body heat up. He leans and skims his nose against his cheekbones, his jaw. “I’m sorry Hunter took advantage of you,” he says softly but the sound is immediately contrasted by Sebastian’s laugh.

  “You make it seem like I was some innocent, naive boy who had no idea what he was getting himself into,” he’s still chuckling.

  Blaine laughs as well and shakes his head. He tickles him at his side a little. “You know that’s not how I meant it, I was --”

  “I know,” Sebastian says and whispers to his ear “Thank you.” Blaine can feel him brushing his lips against his neck, kissing. He smiles against his skin.

  “What?” Blaine asks, his voice soft. He is losing himself; this soft touches making him shiver.

  “Nothing,” he responds and by the sound of his voice Blaine can tell he is reluctant to say something, something that Blaine will tease him about; something cheesy or sentimental.

  “Oh, come on,” he urges playfully, caressing his arms, “You can tell me anything. Even if it is a _sentimental crap,_ ” he finishes with an imitation of Sebastian’s voice. The boy snorts. “Tell me.”

It takes minutes of silence before Sebastian says anything. Minutes where their arms keep touching each other, gentle, soft movements, but not shy, no. Indulgent, lazy. Minutes where their breathing becomes more harder, heavier. Minutes where Blaine almost forgets he asked Sebastian anything. “I wanted it to be you,” Sebastian whispers in his ear, warm breath making Blaine’s entire body cover in goose bumps. “I wanted _you_ to have me like that.” Blaine gulps audibly and sighs, almost moans just at the thought, just at the desire he can hear in those words, feel radiating from his body. Sebastian slides his fingers under Blaine’s shirt and then under the waistband of his jean shorts, his touch burning him.

  “I will,” he manages to say, kissing his neck. Slow, open mouthed kisses and when he darts his tongue out to taste Sebastian gasps.

  “ _Blaine--”_   

  He feels Sebastian’s hands on his skin; on his back, on his stomach. He can feel himself getting harder and when the boy’s hands drop to his ass and he pulls him flush against him he can feel him too; his hips sprung forward on instinct and they both moan. Sebastian buries his face in the crook of his neck and breathes hard; both of their breathing is labored and it’s pointless to try and calm down when they’re tangled like this, engulfed with the each other’s senses, scents, touches.

  “Bas, please -- I can’t take it anymore, I--” he pleads, pleads overwhelmed by desire for him to be ready, to let go, to trust _this._ Whatever control he had is slowly but steadily slipping away; with every press of Sebastian’s fingers against his flesh, with every labored breath they take. He is gripping him tightly, feels his center moving lower, into the abdomen, he feels hot, _needing_ to let go. _Please, oh, please._ Sebastian doesn’t say anything but Blaine can feel him nod, feels his lips against his skin, his open mouth, his tongue, more urgent. So maybe this _is_ the right time, the right moment; it has to be because Blaine thinks he might start crying if Sebastian doesn’t kiss him _right now._ And when he stops, suddenly he swears there actually are tears in his eyes. “Wha - What’s wrong?” he asks, whines almost.

  Sebastian chuckles. “You’re phone is ringing. And I’m pretty sure it’s Cooper so I don’t think he’ll just give up.”

  It’s only then that Blaine hears it. A familiar sound of _Duran Duran-_ the ringtone Cooper himself selected - coming from his pocket. He fishes his phone out and is all ready to tell his brother that he’ll call him later, he doesn’t care if he has to be rude about it but the moment his brother greets him by his name and not by _squirt_ or _Blainey_ he knows it’s something serious. “What’s wrong?” he asks but Cooper only tells him to go find the computer, they - including their parents - need to talk. “Give me five minutes,” he tells him.

  “What’s wrong?” Sebastian asks, concerned.

  “I don’t know, Cooper says he needs to talk to me and our parents. Can I borrow your laptop?”

  They untangle themselves and Blaine sees how rumpled their shirts are and smiles, forgetting for a moment about the serious tone of his brother’s voice.

  “Use the desktop in the office, it has bigger screen.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Sure. When you’re done I’ll be on the roof.” Blaine nods. “I hope it’s nothing too serious.”

  “Yeah, me too. I’ll see you up there then.” Sebastian nods now and Blaine stretches on his toes and kisses his cheek and smiles.

 

  When Blaine appears on the roof half an hour later he sees Sebastian laying on top of the blankets, relaxed, arms crossed beneath his head.

  

  He likes spending time up here. The view is breathtaking: the lit up _Eiffel Tower_ in the distance, lights up everywhere, shadows of rooftops and chimneys. There are white lights decorating the ledge - Mélanie and Elsa hung them up two years ago, Sebastian was quick to say but he also admitted that he liked it so he kept them and even replaced them this year when the lights started to die out; there are half burnt out candles on the ledge and on the floor as well, waxed to the surface.

  

  “Hey,” he says as he sits down beside him and crosses his legs.

  Sebastian sits up as well, legs bent, elbows on his knees, arms hanging. “Hey, everything okay?”

  “Yeah, I think so.” Sebastian's brow furrows. “I guess I’m an uncle,” Blaine announces, disbelief evident in his voice.

  “What?”

  “Cooper found out a week ago he has a daughter. The girl he was dating three years ago told him she got pregnant and well --” he shows him a phone with a picture of the dark-haired, blue-eyed girl. “This is Ally, my niece,” he informs and grins.

  “Yeah, there’s no mistaking who the father is with these eyes. So, I guess congratulations?”

  Blaine chuckles. “Yeah, I guess. It’s all still new. They’re trying to figure things out.”

  “Why hadn’t she told him then?”

  “I don’t know for sure but she probably thought he wouldn’t want to be involved,” he shrugs.

  “I can definitely see that being a reason,” Sebastian smirks and Blaine hits his shoulder playfully. “What? I didn’t mean he couldn’t be a good dad or that he won’t be just --”

  “I know,” Blaine cuts him off, “He’s Cooper.” Sebastian laughs. “But I think he wants to make things right, be a good dad. He’s freaking out, I could tell. He stayed talking to mom and dad. I know he can be flaky but if he cares about someone he will try and be there for them. I know he still feels bad for not being there for me after _Sadie Hawkins_ but he made it up to me. He really is a good guy he just sometimes gets distracted by -- himself,” he chuckles at the end and then glances at Sebastian but sees that the boy next to him isn’t smiling. Okay, it wasn’t that funny but still, Sebastian is looking at him all serious, like he’s trying to figure something out. “What?”

  “What happened after _Sadie Hawkins?_ ”

  “What?” Blaine asks again.

  “You said he wasn’t there for you after --” Blaine nods and Sebastian stops talking. He did say it. So casually, he didn’t even notice. Maybe it was one of those deliberate mistakes, subconsciously intentional slip of the tongue. “You don’t have to tell me but it’s obvious it _was_ something.”

  “I want to tell you,” Blaine tells him.

  “You don’t have to. Just because today turned out to be day of confessions --”

  Blaine chuckles. “No, I wanted to tell you for a long time I just --” _I’m afraid you’ll see me differently_ “-- well, it’s kind of a downer.”

Sebastian cocks an eyebrow. “You met my mom, right?”

Blaine shakes his head as small laugh escapes him. He takes a deep breath. Sebastian rubs his lower back gently few times and Blaine knows he wants to tell him. “I transferred to Dalton in second semester of my freshman year because -- after the dance I’d gotten beat up.”This is different, telling Sebastian. When he told Kurt he was pushed into a corner. He didn’t think that way then but that’s how it was, he felt forced to reveal it. But not now. Now it’s his choice so he tells Sebastian everything.

  He tells him about every punch of the fists and every kick of the boots, he tells him about blood gushing through his nose, out of his mouth. He tells him about broken bones and wounded spirit. He tells him about being scared, like he never even thought was possible, for himself and for Michael. He tells him how hopeless he felt, how weak and small. By the time he’s done there are tears falling down his cheeks. He shouldn’t be surprised, but he is. It’s been a long time since he really thought about that November night and it’s been even longer since he relived it. He has nightmares sometimes, though. And they come randomly, not dependent on his mood during his waking hours. They don’t haunt him often, thankfully, but every appearance of those memories is a reminder that that night will always be a part of him.

  Sebastian is hugging him tightly and he realizes he’s not the only one shaking. The boy kisses the top of his head and stands up, walks over to the ledge and sits. He wipes his face and stands up as well. “Say something,” he says even though he knows there’s not much that can be said. But he’s still a little afraid to look into Sebastian’s eyes; he doesn’t want this to change anything. Sebastian just shakes his head. “Another one for the books,” Blaine teases and manages to provoke a tug one the taller boy’s lips. He sits beside him.

  “I knew there are assholes out there, psychopaths and cretins but for someone to do this to you -- _you_ of all people, I can’t believe it.” He is angry and upset.

  “It would’ve been terrible if it happened to anyone.”  

  “I know, but you -- you are so nice and kind, friendly, with that big heart and it’s just -- The world really sucks sometimes,” he says and shakes his head because really, what can you say that could describe how ugly, how hateful some people can be.

  “Bas?” Blaine calls him, realizing he is yet to look him in the eyes.

  “What?’” he asks softly when he turns. Blaine is startled by all the emotions he sees there: anger and fear and fondness, so much of something he doesn’t dare to name. He loses himself looking into those green orbs until Sebastian bumps his shoulder.

  “I don’t want you to see me differently,” he voices his current biggest fear.

  “Well I will,” Sebastian says but hurries when he feels Blaine tensing up, “But not how you think. I knew you were strong but now I know just _how_ strong. You didn’t lose yourself, you didn’t become jaded or cold-hearted and that’s incredible. You not only survived but you didn’t let them destroy you. You are remarkable, Blaine Anderson so, yeah I will see you differently and you’ll just have to deal,” he finishes with a smirk but then adds. “And thank you for telling me.”

  Blaine nods; at the moments that’s all he’s capable of doing.

  He is so happy that he didn’t let himself overlook this incredible guy, he is thankful to Sebastian for being persistent, for not giving up. He can’t imagine what his life would’ve been like if he never met him; just the thought of not having him in his life is absolutely heart wrenching. Well, truth is, if he hadn't met him, if he’d let him pass by he wouldn’t have known what he was missing but he is sure that his life would feel empty, it would be a life of always missing something, longing for someone but not being able to put a name or a face to his yearning.

  He stands and moves in between Sebastian’s legs. “You are strong too. And incredible. And remarkable. And all the things you described me with.”

  Sebastian laughs. “Nice? Seriously? Good? No one and I mean no one would ever describe _me_ as nice.” He continues laughing.

  Blaine tickles him which only makes him laugh harder. And maybe that’s what Blaine intended because it is such a stunning sight watching Sebastian laugh like this, loud and free, his head thrown back, body shaking. “Fine,” Blaine concedes, now laughing as well. “Maybe you’re not _nice_ nice but you have goodness inside of you, lot of it. And I’m fine if you’re so intent on keeping it a secret. It’s gonna be my secret. Yeah, I think I like that.”

  “You’re ridiculous,” Sebastian says, laugh subsiding.

  “I’m serious, you saved my life.”

  Sebastian chuckles. “Aren’t you over exaggerating?”

  “No. I’m not. I was so lost, so empty -- everything was one big nothing and then you went and did that _thing_ and -- yes, you saved my life.”

  Sebastian regards him for a moment. “I didn’t know it was that bad,” he tells him. “At first I just wanted to give you that music room, you know, it was supposed to be just a thank you, no hard feelings type of thing. But then Jeff said you seemed off and that you didn’t even really enjoy your music classes and I just assumed it was a case of an asshole professor or something so that’s when the papers idea came. I didn’t know things got so bad for you.”

  “I know and yet it was exactly what I needed, something big and loud to shake me up, remind me of who I am.”

  Sebastian smiles at him, almost a shy smile and Blaine just grins, enjoying the feel of Sebastian’s thick, soft hair in between his fingers. “Mmmmm,” he hums, “This feels nice.”

  “I know,” Blaine says, speaking from experience. He already has many many many memories that are filled with the sensations of Sebastian’s fingers running through his hair, slowly, indulgently; filled with the sensations of his fingers playing with his curls. If he was satisfied before by his choice to let his hair breathe now he is sure it’s been one of the best decisions he’s ever made.

  Sebastian chuckles when Blaine yawns. He takes Blaine’s hand, guiding him to the blankets. “All this serious talk is definitely exhausting,” he jokes but there is truth in his words so Blaine nods. “I think we shouldn’t talk about anything serious for a week. Or a month.” Blaine laughs. “Come here,” he says, making himself comfortable on blankets. “I’ll even let you cuddle with me,” he teases.

  Blaine snorts and laughs. “You’ll let _me_ cuddle with you?”

  “What?” Sebastian asks, laying on his back, arms beneath his head.

  “Nothing,” Blaine says, curling up easily beside Sebastian, his head on his chest. “Just one more secret I know.” His body relaxes immediately and he realizes Sebastian was more right than he knew, he really was tired. And when he hears Sebastian yawn as well he knows he isn’t the only one who feels drained; but he’s also calm and content. It was a good thing to get all of that out; one more proof that they can talk about anything, that they understand each other. He turns his head, his chin on his chest and looks at Sebastian. “Are you gonna tell me what the bet was about?” Sebastian frowns in confusion. “Your hair, why did you cut it off last spring? You said something about a bet but gave no details.”

  “It wasn’t really a bet more of a blackmail.” Blaine raises his eyebrows, looking for more information. “Jeff had some video of me and -- We were drinking, well, Jeff sure was and he threatened to release it. It was his version of _Truth or Dare,_ and I chose dare.”

Blaine grins. “What was on the video?”

 “Just me singing,”

“What song?” Blaine is curious and amused.

“You’re enjoying this too much.”

  Blaine grins again. “Come on, if it’s just singing why so secretive?” he teases.

  “You know why,” Sebastian says, but he doesn’t mind Blaine teasing him. It’s not even a big deal now, not after everything and considering where they are but then he would rather cut his hair - which he did - or do whatever Jeff came up with than have Blaine see the video.

  “Why can’t I see it then?” he pouts.

  “I didn’t say you can’t. Asks Jeff to send you I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.”

  Blaine smiles and nods but then adds. “You should probably tell him you’re okay with that. He’s pretty protective of you.”

  Sebastian laughs. “Yeah, he’s great. Almost as nice as you.”

  “I didn’t even know you were roommates. I guess Mrs. Mosley got this one right. Not like me and Thad. I mean I like him but living --

  Sebastian’s laugh cuts him off. “He’s still selling that story?”

  Blaine smiles because Sebastian’s laugh is infectious. “I’m missing something,” he concludes. The story Jeff told him was simple and believable: Mrs. Mosley - woman in the head office, in charge of the dormitories - put them together; Mrs. Mosley’s roster was never taken as set in stone though, hence Nick and Jeff rooming together for three years.

  “I was supposed to be rooming with Trent but he was adamant about not wanting to live with me and no one else was really jumping to take his place so Jeff volunteered. There was that tension between him and Nick so that’s how we ended up together.” Blaine feels upset that everyone was basically shunning him, as if he and he alone was responsible for all the crap the year before but he sees Sebastian looks amused. He’s laughing again but stops when he sees a serious expression on Blaine’s face. “What?”

  “Nothing, just -- I can’t believe they acted like that.”

  Sebastian eyes him for a moment but then asks, “Wait, you’re pissed at them?”

  “Well, yeah, a little. I mean, cutting you off like that - it wasn’t fair.”

  Sebastian shakes his head. “It was the start of the year, everything was still raw. We got passed it, we’re cool now.” Blaine nods. “So, anything else you want to know?” he teases “Because if you do I think you should wait for tomorrow because I feel like the moment I close my eyes I’ll be asleep.”

  Blaine chuckles. “No, nothing else.” And puts his head back down on Sebastian’s chest.

  “Do you want to go inside?”

  “No”, Blaine says, “It’s perfect here,” and moves as close as possible to Sebastian while he flings a blanket over them.

  “Turn around,” Sebastian whispers and Blaine doesn’t have to think or ask why. He simply moves to his side and Sebastian presses his body behind him, holding him tight. They fit so perfectly together and every time Blaine stops breathing for a moment because of how overwhelming it is, how _right._ “Night, killer,” Sebastian whispers, “Hopefully it won’t start to rain.”

  Blaine chuckles, already half-asleep “Night, Bas.”

 

  It is perfect here on the roof. The faint sounds of people on the street, music being played by street performers. The comfortable bed of blankets, the scent of summer night in the air, sweet and rich - Blaine swears he smell lilies and scent of palms that is drifting from the banks of _Seine  -_ and the most perfect thing of all: the boy next to him, breathing steadily, his arms around him, fitting perfectly.

 

***

  


  Blaine is laying on his back - a week later - his head on Sebastian chest while the boy beneath him has his head perched on the spare rolled up blanket, reading a book - his free hand playing with Blaine’s curls. The book Blaine was reading is now placed beside him; he replaced the pleasure of reading with the pleasure of soaking up his surroundings: glorious _Champ de Mars._ Green beneath him _,_ around him, magnificent metal giant rising above him. He feels the sun on his skin, feels slow rise and fall of Sebastian’s torso, feels fingers playing with his hair. Smells cotton candy and grass and chocolate. He hears people talking, laughing, hears kids shrieking and playing _catch me if you can_. He turns his head a little and sees groups of people - families, friends, couples young and old - sees people playing Frisbee in the distance, sees weeping willows trailing in the water of the nearby duck pond. The sky is stunning blue with only thin wisps of white clouds. The sun is golden.

  He turns his head to look at Sebastian and takes in every little detail: his eyes scanning over the words, little, tiny, miniature movements of his face - brow furrowing just so, eyes widening, lips twitching. Scattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks; more prominent now than a month ago, contrasting against his sun kissed skin. He traces his fingers across the side of his neck, connecting the beauty marks.

  “It’s not polite to stare,” Sebastian smirks, not removing his gaze from the book.

   Blaine is quick to respond. “You should tell that to yourself then.”

  Sebastian smiles and inserts the bookmark and shuts the book. “What?”

  Blaine rolls around on his stomach, holds himself up on his elbows. “I wish you weren’t going,” he confesses.” Sebastian told him on his third day here that he is going to Madrid with his friends for three weeks; they’re leaving the day after the _Fête Nationale_ \- in three days. He sees his brow furrowing.

  “I know but --”

  Blaine shakes his head. “No, I know. I don’t mean it like that.” He doesn’t, he knows Sebastian is looking forward to it, knows this is the only time he gets to spend with his friends since they are all living in different countries, different continents, for most of the year. “I just wish I could come with.”

  Sebastian smiles. “Yeah, me too. You’ll come with us next year then,” he says.

  “Yeah, I’d like that. I’ve never been to Spain.”

  “Time will fly, you’ll see. Besides, I know Haruki and Erika are dying to spend more time with you.”

Blaine smiles and nods. “You'll be back for the final performance, right?”

  “Of course. I’ll be back on the seventh. So -“ Sebastian starts to asks, raising his body, supporting himself with his elbows. “- Where do you want to go tonight? Any special wishes?”

  Blaine bites his lips for a second and climbs on his lap, straddling him. Sebastian is taken by surprise but recovers instantly, sitting up, winding his arms around the shorter boy.

  “Yes, actually. I think you should take me dancing.” That’s what he wants. They’ve done everything else there is to do, except that. Well, they danced sure, by Blaine has something different in mind for tonight and when he sees Sebastian raises an amused eyebrow he knows he understands.

  “Oh, really?” Blaine nods and grins, holding him by his shoulders, one hand playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. “Anything else I can do for you?” Sebastian asks, smirking.

   _Yes._ He looks at him and steadies his gaze, takes him in, lets him see what he feels. He feels his heart, feels Sebastian’s as well - pulsing beneath his fingertips, on that soft spot on his neck - and swears they’re beating at the same rhythm. His hands are holding him tightly and are slipping beneath his shirt, slowly but deliberately. “You should stop holding back.”

  He sees Sebastian swallow and his grip tightens again. He leans and skims his nose against his jaw, kisses his neck. “How do you know I’m holding back?” he whispers, his voice playful. “Maybe I’m just waiting for you to kiss _me,”_ and smiles against his skin.

  Blaine feels his hot breath and shivers. “Maybe you are,” he teases back, glides his one hand beneath his short sleeves the other gripping his neck, and shivers again at the ghosting brushes of Sebastian’s lips against his flesh. “But I know you’re hesitating,” he pulls away just a little, only enough to look at him, “And I really think you should stop.” _Stop doubting yourself, surrender, trust in what you feel._

  Sebastian is looking at him and Blaine lets him. “Are you sure?” Sebastian asks and starts kissing his neck again, his jaw, his temple, his cheekbones. Is the Earth round? Does it revolve around the Sun? Does Sun rises on the East? Sets on the West? Is he breathing right now? Is he alive? Is he sure? _Certainly, certainly, without a doubt._ “Because if I kiss you I will never stop,” he says, teasing, serious.

  “Is that a promise?” he asks, a little breathy; already he’s having trouble breathing.

  “Do you want it to be?” teases again.

  “Yes so just shut up and kiss me,” he says, playful, smiling, eyes having trouble remaining open. He feels Sebastian smirk and then there’s the sensation of his lips hovering next to his own, he can feel them, tingling. He leans his forehead against Sebastian’s, their arms around each other, hot breaths mingling. “I’m sure,” he says.

  And that’s it.

  Sebastian presses his lips against his and everything else falls away. There is no green grass or _Eiffel Tower_ or other people. Time stops existing - it’s stretching itself into eternity. There is no Sun or the Moon or the sky above them. It’s just them, alone.

  Blaine gasps or sighs, can’t be sure. There is nothing, _nothing,_ like the sensation of Sebastian’s lips pressing against his. This is it. This is everything. He will always remember - the stepping into _forever._ He will always remember the taste of it: caramel, coffee, _Sebastian._ He runs his hand down his back, feeling every tiny move of muscles, his hot flesh. Runs his fingers through his hair, down his arms, fingers curling with the fabric of his shirt. They both moan when their tongues touch, sliding together deliciously. Sebastian draws him closer, up his body and they moan again when their half-hard clothed cocks connect. His hands are under his shirt, fingers leaving burning trail making heat curl up inside him.  Everything is perfect - the world makes sense.

  They break away at the same time, when their lungs are seconds away from exploding, burning from lack of air, from expanding with so much sensation. They’re breathing hard, lips swollen and tingling, eyes glazed over, still holding onto each other.

  “Definitely worth the wait,” Sebastian whispers into his ear, biting gently at the earlobe, kissing bellow, kissing his neck. “Blaine?” he asks when Blaine gives no response and pulls away to look at the hazel eyed boy. “Say something.” But Blaine can’t, he literally _can’t._ Like his mind has forgotten how to form words, like he forgot what the words are. There’s nothing articulating inside just _sensations._ So he kisses him again, deep, endless. He pushes the boy in his arms to the ground, further into the grass. And they keep kissing and kissing and touching for another infinity.

  “Yeah, definitely,” Blaine manages to say after they break away the second time, relieved to find his voice again. Sebastian smiles up at him, a dopey grin on his face and Blaine thinks he’s never looked so beautiful: cheeks flushed, lips _red_ and swollen, hair mussed, pupils dilated, the green shining greener than ever, satisfied look on his face, look of _pure,_ unadulterated happiness.

  “ _God,_ Blaine, you’re _so_ beautiful,” the boy beneath him tells him, reaches and brushes his fingers against the side of his face, moves them to his lips and Blaine feels his eyes start to close again, haze enveloping them.

  “ _Sebastian-“_ is all he can manage. He wants to say: _You are beautiful. This is perfect. This is magical._ He wants to say _I’ve never been so alive, I’ve never been this awake._ He thinks something like, _My every atom is feeling you_. But he’s too overwhelmed to talk. He’ll talk later, now he just wants to kiss him and keep kissing him. Now, when he can finally touch him like this, taste him. So he does.

  He lowers himself on his tall and firm body, runs his hand up his shirt to the place where his heart is and just feels it. Sebastian’s heart, strong beating heart, in the palm of his hand.

  “It’s yours, you know,” the boy whispers against his lips. Blaine smiles. “Don’t say it.”

  “Say what?” Blaine teases, some of his talking capabilities coming back to him.

  “That I’m being cheesy,” Sebastian says and kisses him, his arms on Blaine’s back, firm against his skin.

  “I don’t mind,” Blaine says and moves his lips to his ear. “I love it because I know it’s just for me,” he whispers.

  Sebastian smiles and then chuckles. “You made me this way. I think it may be one of your superpowers, turning people into cheeseballs.”

  Blaine chuckles and wants to ask what are his other superpowers but chooses to leave it for later. Now he just wants to, needs to kiss him. He moves one of Sebastian’s hands from his back, up front and up his body and places his palm over his heart. “And this is yours,” he says, looking at him. He sees a small, shy smile forming on Sebastian’s lips and then he grins and kisses him.

  They lose themselves again in each other until they are unable to hold back their stuttering hips anymore, dying for friction; bodies yearning for more.

  “We should take this inside. Paris, France isn’t Paris, Texas, or Westerville, Ohio for that matter -“ Sebastian manages to smirk despite his labored breathing “-- but not even here is dry humping outdoors in the middle of the day acceptable so - ” Blaine blushes, chuckles, swats at his arm and nods.“Come on, the sooner we leave the sooner we’re at my place and then we can really have some fun,” he winks.

  Blaine blushes, but says it anyway, looking straight into his eyes, very unabashedly “Can’t wait.” He is filled with desire, with want and there is no point in trying to hide it; he doesn’t want to hide it.

  

  

  As they were picking up their things Blaine glanced around and was thankful they made themselves comfortable in the slightly more secluded area but he didn’t really care. And felt this giddy feeling inside of him at that realization. But really, it is summer in Paris, city of love; he saw plenty of couples in the last four weeks caught up in each other, lost in each other. He wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed, no; just blissfully happy that he also had that moment: forgetting about everything. Moment that is out of place and out of time, where only thing that exist is the person kissing you.

                                                                 

 

                                                                  

 ***

  
   He should’ve done this sooner. And he doesn’t mean just this: dancing with Sebastian in a club in Paris. He should’ve gone to clubs before because here’s the thing: he absolutely _loves_ it. But he shouldn’t really be surprised. He had more fun than he ever cared to admit in that very un-scandalous _Scandals,_ even when trying hard to fight the gravity that was pulling him towards the Warbler and trying to ignore the glaring of his boyfriend. And that was just some poor excuse of the bar in _Ohio,_ but _this_ \--this is everything he ever thought a club should be like. Big floors, loud, vibrating music, ferociously intense blend of scents: perfumes and aftershaves mixing with sweat and smoke. Boys and men dancing all round him, free and loose, moving to the rhythm of the music, to the rhythm of the body next to them. _Green_ and _blue_ and _yellow_ and _red_ is pulsing around him, above him, reflecting against the exposed flesh. Glorious.

  Of course, what is making all this even better is the boy next to him, in front of him, pressed tightly against him. Sebastian. He alone is the most glorious thing of all.

  They’ve been dancing for a while, making trips to the bar, cooling themselves down - or trying to - catching their breaths. He isn’t drunk, neither of them are - just two drinks at the start of the night and all water after that; like they need it, like they’re not intoxicated enough by each other.

  Being with Sebastian like this is maddening.

  Their hands roaming, touching, groping, tracing the skin until they settle. Sebastian’s arms around his waist, his own gripping his shoulder, his neck. Sebastian’s knees are bent down slightly, his leg between his, hips slotted together - moving, moving against each other in the rhythm that has nothing to do with music, moving in the rhythm of _them,_ of how they want each other. He is desperately torn, wanting to look at Sebastian all the time, never breaking the gaze, and allowing his eyes to close.

  There is so much sensation. Heat keeps rising and rising and rising up his body, through his bloodstream. He feels like he’s burning yet he keeps shivering whenever Sebastian’s hard pressing, needy touches turn light, barely grazing at his skin. It is getting almost impossible to think. All he _can_ think about is how much he wants him.

  They’ve gotten each other off when they came home from the park, with their hands, with their bodies moving, grinding against each other, but none of that seems to matter now because Blaine feels like he could combust right here, right now. Everything is dizzying, all-encompassing. He feels sweat layering his body: his forehead, his neck, his arms, and sees Sebastian glistening as well. He runs his hands over his exposed chest - he unbuttoned his shirt a while ago, needing to feel as much flesh as possible - pushes himself on his toes and kisses him - deep, deep, deep - and then licks the curve of his neck, tasting the salty skin, tasting _Sebastian._ The boy moans and Blaine moans as well when their cocks rub against each other, losing all rhythm for a few heavenly moments before - barely – stilling their movements a little, putting just a tiny bit of space between them.

  “I think about you when I touch myself,” Blaine says in the taller boy's ear. Not a secret, obviously, but he wants to say it, he is overcome with the need to say it out loud. He feels Sebastian smirk against the skin of his neck.

  “I know,” he says, voice deep, full of desire.

  Blaine keeps gripping his shoulders, his lips pressed against his ear and feels Sebastian breathing, kissing, licking his neck. “I thought about you even before,” he says. That is a secret and Sebastian's hands dig deeper into his hips. “I knew I shouldn’t, but I did.” There’s no point in keeping it hidden, not anymore, not when everything else has come out.

  “Fuck, Blaine --” Sebastian gasps. Sighs. Hotly.

  Blaine can’t believe how overwhelmed with desire he is. It’s engulfing him, taking him over, burning hot. “I fingered myself in the shower,” he says, feels Sebastian tremble, “before we came here.” Sebastian bites at his skin, Blaine moans, their hips grind against each other. They’re barely moving now, just pressed close, hands gripping, hips jerking.

  “Shit, Blaine --you --” he trails off, kisses him instead. Frenzied, dirty, craving. “I finger myself too, thinking about you-- you inside me.” Blaine shivers, almost faints; he doesn’t know why this is so surprising, Sebastian already told him he thought about bottoming for him --- it’s the image, that’s what makes Blaine so feverishly aroused: of Sebastian on his bed, or in the shower, his face scrunched in pleasure, his fingers inside of him, grunting, moaning, moaning his name. “You like that, don’t you?” Blaine feels like he will explode, come right here, in the middle of the dance floor. He follows the lines of Sebastian’s sweat layered torso with his fingers - nipples, ribs, muscles - his eyes close, head pressed against his neck trying to hold himself together. But it’s almost impossible when Sebastian is all around him, when everything is him: his touch, his words that are burning him, melting him. “You want to make me yours?”  The noise in the club is deafening, but he can hear Sebastian’s voice so clearly, like they’re standing in an empty room in the middle of the nowhere. Impossible, yes, but true.

  “Yes,” Blaine moans the confession. “And I want to be yours,” he pushes himself up again, whispers in his ear, “All yours.” Sebastian kisses him again, dizzying, from the soul, from the heart, from deep inside. Blaine can’t take it anymore.

  “Bas _please_ \-- you need to touch me-- I’ll --” he whines, kisses him unable to say _I’ll die, I’ll combust, please touch me, make me erupt, make me explode. Please!_

  It takes Sebastian a long moment to say anything and when he does Blaine hears how on edge he is as well. He nods, “Yeah, we should probably go,” but that’s not what Blaine wants. He can’t wait that longer. It would take them at least fifteen minutes and now, that seems like an eternity and he just can’t hold for that long. Things have been building and building and building for the last two hours, for weeks and months, it feels like they’ve been building up since the moment he laid his eyes on this gorgeous boy and the fact that he had three orgasms in the last four hours doesn’t seem to make any difference.

  “No --” he manages to say and looks around them and steadies his gaze over the place where he earlier noticed people disappear to.

  “Blaine --” Sebastian starts but Blaine just kisses him and starts fiddling with his belt and palms Sebastian through his pants and boys hips stutter forward and he moans, a long,  loud, needy moan. “Blaine --” he tries again, “You don’t want to --” Blaine cuts him off with another kiss, slower, definitely more controlled than how he feels. He knows what Sebastian wants to say, what he means: he doesn’t want _them_ together in the same type of place where he had all those meaningless hookups. But Blaine doesn’t care about that. He needs him _now_. The feelings are too strong, the need - it hurts. He takes one of Sebastian’s hands and presses it against his own cock - he almost sobs at how good it feels, strong, steady press - lets him feel him, he moves his hips, desperate for some friction, some relief and his eyes instantly roll inside his head. Sebastian kisses him. “Blaine --”

  “I don’t care,” Blaine says and looks him straight into his eyes, laces their fingers together and starts guiding them towards the back room. He glances at Sebastian and sees he still looks torn so he stops, loops his hand around his neck, kisses him. “It’s just you and me,” he says.

 

  The backroom is darker - all darkness and red lights - and stuffier, with staled air. Scents are more pungent as well: less cologne more dried come and sweat. But Blaine barely notices that, or other man there, he is guided by his thirst for one boy, all he is really aware of is Sebastian.

  Whatever hesitations Sebastian had are now completely gone because suddenly Blaine feels himself pressed against the wall and when Sebastian slams his lips against his he can feel it: so much hunger, so much want, so much _need_ for _him,_ just for him. Their bodies rub against each other, frenzied, desperate, needy.

  “Let me suck you off,” Sebastian pleads in a thick, deep voice. “Please,” and Blaine swears he almost comes from that. He nods, blinks and then Sebastian is on his knees looking up at him, eyes black, unlooping his belt. Blaine stares down at him, bites his lower lip and then helps him unbutton his pants when he sees Sebastian’s fingers actually trembling - nerves? desire? mix of the two? - and he releases a deep breath when Sebastian lowers his zipper, slowly. He is rock hard, aching, feels his boxer briefs damp with leaking pre come and when Sebastian just blows the sound coming from his throat is part whine, part moan, part cry. He looks down and Sebastian is smirking before he pulls his briefs down his legs and his cock springs free and another breath of relief is exhaled. He sees Sebastian licking his lips, he sees the look of hunger in his eyes when the boy glances up. Ravenous. He feels unsteady on his legs, his whole body is heavy with want, and he puts his hands on the wall behind him, looking for any kind of support. He feels Sebastian hand gripping the base of his cock, sees him watching him while he licks the length of his cock and Blaine cries out. _“Sebastian!”_ The boy does it again and then swirls his tongue over the slit on the tip and then takes him in his mouth, without losing eye contact, and Blaine cries again and moans and manages to finally take a deep breath in.

  The sensation of Sebastian’s mouth around him is incredible, amazing, divine. It’s -- there’s no words. He hears himself gasp and sigh and hiss and grunt. He feels Sebastian moan before he hears it, the vibrations making him break eye contact, his head falling backwards with a thud but Blaine doesn’t even register it. Someone could stick a needle in his flesh or even cut him with a knife and he wouldn’t feel it. His legs are shaking and he grabs a fistful of Sebastian’s hair, more to hold himself - however useless that would be if his legs did give up - not to guide him, there’s no need for that because what Sebastian is doing is absolutely perfect.

  “Bas -- _fuck--_ so good --” he manages, his voice thick, breaking. He feels him moan again and he keeps moaning and Blaine looks down at him and sees that his hand is lost inside his own pants, stroking. “No --” Blaine says and hopes, prays that Sebastian will realize what he means. No _stop_ to sucking him, god, no; _stop_ to stroking himself because Blaine wants to taste him too. Not tomorrow, not the day after, no, now. And amazingly, Sebastian understood and isn’t that the most incredible thing.

  He looks down at Sebastian and his vision goes out for a second, blinded by the sight: it’s the way Sebastian is looking at him, the way he takes him as if this really is the most delicious, most enjoyable thing he could be doing. Blaine honestly didn’t know it could be like that, having a boy on his knees with his cock in his mouth only and only because it’s what he really wants, because he _really_ likes it, not just because he thinkshe _should_ like it. Sebastian honestly looks like he could be doing this all the time, like he’s been starving for it, and Blaine _can’t_ wait to taste him too.

  He feels hot heat hot gathering in his abdomen, concentrating there, all of himself curling in that one, tight spot before he -- _“Bas-- close -- I’m so --”_

And then Sebastian pulls away and he whines, sobs, tears gathering in his eyes, hips stuttering forward, desperate for that delicious, wet heat. He was so _close. So_ close. He can’t believe he managed to last this long - guess he does have to thank those three earlier orgasms for that - and now Sebastian just pulled away, pulled _him_ away from the very edge.

  The boy below smirks – sly - his lips swollen, but he keeps stroking him, slowly, so slowly, and stares at him. His other hand reaches inside his pants, Blaine sees it moving, then he runs it against his cock, slowly, carefully gathering the precum on his fingers and Blaine moans when he realizes what Sebastian is doing, what he is about to do. He nods to the silent question and then feels Sebastian’s finger against his hole and gasps and then nods again, frantically. _Yes, yes, yes, oh, god, yes._

Sebastian takes him in his mouth again, moving his head slowly over his length, tongue flat and then swirling; his fingers brushing against his entrance, pressing and he nods again and then he feels one of Sebastian’s fingers sliding inside of him and he gasps again. If things were too much before, now - Blaine is completely and utterly overflowing with sensations, with Sebastian: his finger, and then two, moving in and out of him, scissoring, hooking, brushing against his prostate making him scream in pleasure; Sebastian’s mouth around his cock, sucking in earnest now, humming around his length. Blaine can’t control his movements, torn between jerking forward and pushing down. Sebastian’s fingers brush against those bundle of nerves, he moans, and his hips jerk forcefully and he feels himself brush against the back of Sebastian’s throat. He want to apologize but feels Sebastian’s fingers sliding out of him and he sighs at the loss. The boy below places both of his hands on his hips, to hold him firm, Blaine thinks but his hold is loose and he nudges him forward and -- _Oh. Oh god!_ He feels him hum and then Blaine abandons whatever tiny amount of control he had left and starts thrusting into his mouth and after the fourth of fifth thrust he is gone. Spilling inside Sebastian’s mouth without a warning. _Gone gone gone._

  To the edge of the known universe.

  And then back.

  He’s shaking, panting, meeting those green eyes, black eyes, again. He registers Sebastian tucking him back inside his briefs and pants, standing up. He kisses him and when he tastes himself in his mouth he moans, trembles, and drops to the floor, instinctively, and pulls his pants down - quickly - and his briefs - slowly, carefully - and feels dizzy at the sight that greets him: cock hard and flushed red, big, leaking; pulsing. His own tries to twitch but it’s a useless try. His head is hazy, body filling with desire again, with hunger. Quickly, hotly.

  He is aware of what he’s doing, of what just happened. He feels wild, unrestrained, and it’s exhilarating, incredible, astonishingly liberating getting his cock blown like this, falling to his knees, not caring if there is another person in the world.

  “Blaine, I won’t --” he doesn’t manage to say because Blaine is swirling his tongue, lapping all the precum and all he can do is gasp and moan. But Blaine knows what he wanted to say: _I won’t last long_. And that’s okay, Blaine just needs to taste him, feel the weight of his cock in his mouth and _god_ \--- it is _sensational_. He completely forgets how little experience he has, how if he wasn’t so consumed with need he would worry about it but not now, not like this.

  Sebastian tastes salty and bittery and something else, some unknown flavor - an _essence_ of Sebastian - all blended in a tangy, potent - _delicious -_ piquancy. He is overflowing with flavor and scents - also pungent, sharp, scent of _man_ and _Sebastian._

  For a moment he is reminded of his limited experience when he forgets to breathe and feels saliva dripping down his chin. He pulls off and a boy above him whines but Blaine is quickly back around him and the sounds he hears coming from Sebastian, the way he feels him shaking, hears his name like a some deep, wanton prayer, feels his fingers knotting in his curls, gripping, makes him realize that it doesn't matter just how _technically_ good he is, how practiced.  He glances up and sees a wrecked expression on his face,  scrunched in tight pleasure, moaning. “Close --” Sebastian croaks out, “Blaine, you -- need-- “ He has a second to decide and doesn’t pull away, lets Sebastian shoot inside his mouth, groaning, crying out and it’s thrilling. He doesn’t manage to swallow all of it, some of the cum spills over, dripping on his chin but he scoops it up with his fingers and licks them. He hears Sebastian growl and feels himself being pulled up and  Sebastian is kissing him, hungrily, with fervor,  licking inside his mouth, still naked with his pants and briefs pooled on the floor. They both moan, tasting themselves; tastes mixing together: Sebastian inside Blaine’s mouth, Blaine inside Sebastian’s. Sensational. “Fuck, Blaine -- you’re incredible,” Sebastian breathes.

  Blaine grins dopily. “No, you are.”

  Tall boy tucks himself back in his pants and then for a moment they stay in place, holding each other, letting their breathing slow down.

  “So, are you okay now?” Sebastian teases, “Can we go _now?”_

  Blaine chuckles and just nods, feeling so damn _good._

 

  They’re walking along the _Seine -_ lights of the _Notre Dame,_ of Paris dancing across the dark, flowy surface - tucked close, small smiles playing on their lips. They’re in no hurry, enjoying the sweet, warm  air, the magical view, each other.

  “Well, I’ll never see you in the same light after tonight,” Sebastian teases and Blaine blushes. “No, no! No blushing now,” he teases again and kisses the top of his head which Blaine hid in his chest. Sebastian chuckles but then asks. “You’re okay, right?”

  And Blaine shoots his head up immediately, impossibly wide smile on his face, still feeling giddy. “So much more than okay,” lifts himself up on his toes and kisses him, softly, sweetly. “It was --” he shakes his head, “Sensational. _You_ are sensational,” he says and kisses him again and then they’re just embracing each other there, along the river, in yet another magical Parisian night.

  “And _you_ \--” Sebastian starts and chuckles. “You made me speechless again.”

  Blaine laughs. “I’m getting good at that.”

  Sebastian tickles him. “Yeah, but for now I’ll go with sensational as well.” He pulls away and tilts Blaine’s chin up. “But seriously, killer, you’re so -- god damn flawless,” and his lips are on his again, slight pressure, mouth opening, tongues touching, dancing a slow, indulgent dance. Blaine recalls the first time Sebastian had called him that, remembers how every time after whenever he heard that word or saw it written he heard his voice.

  When they break away Blaine looks up at him, their hands around their waist, still smelling like smoke and sweat and yes - sex. “Every time when you say something like this I ---”

  “What?” Sebastian asks, smiling.

  “I just --” he shakes his head, losing his thought a little. “And not just this, you --” he’s blushing, “it’s like you’re admiring me, like you’re proud of me and I--” It is such a new feeling. Well, not entirely, there are people who are proud of him yes, but this is different. He doesn’t really want to do this, comparing Sebastian to Kurt, his relationship with both boys but it just keeps happening and this is just another example where Sebastian wins; there’s really no other way to say it. There’s no  jealousy here over his capabilities, his talents, there’s no envy, no need to hold himself back, censor himself, be any less than what he can be.

  Sebastian smiles again. “Of course I am,” like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “How can I not?” he asks, disbelief lacing his voice. “You’re incredibly talented, smart, kind, friendly. You don’t judge, you give second chances, you’re hot as hell, beautiful,“ he says as those are the most undisputed, undeniable facts in the entire galaxy. “And--” he says, warns Blaine - who is melting before him - to not say anything, yet. “I know you have your flaws too, like bottling your feelings until you explode, or you’re dislike of gummy bears, but you’re still flawless even with your flaws.”

  Blaine shakes his head. “You’re ridiculous.” he kisses him. Passionately. “And I feel the same way about you. It’s just -- when you say all those things I can see that you really mean them and I don’t think I’ll ever truly believe that I am the way you see me,” and then he puts his fingers on his lips. “But -- you’re free to keep telling me for as long as you want.” Removes his fingers and their lips slide together again, fitting perfectly.

  “I intent to,” Sebastian whispers against his lips.

  

  They walk to Sebastian’s house, taking the longest possible route, holding hands.

  Maybe this is what Blaine loves the most about being with Sebastian. They can go from cheesy and playful to romantic, quiet intensity to burning, blazing, all-consuming desire to romantic again, and cheesy and playful all in a span of few hours, minutes. And sometimes everything just blends and weaves together at the same time composing beautiful essence of _them._

 

***

 

  Tomorrow Blaine will wake up naked, Sebastian’s naked body pressed against him. He will marvel at the moment, at the sensation of two bodies stripped away of every bit of clothing, of two _people_ stripped as well.

 

  “What is this?” Sebastian will asks him, curious and amused, when he shows him his phone full of messages saying **_It’s about time_** or **_Finally_** or **_Hallelujah._** Blaine will smile and show him his _Facebook_ page. Sebastian will see all the photos Blaine has been posting since he arrived in Paris, photos of them together. He’ll see **_Blaine Anderson is in a relationship with Sebastian Smythe._** He’ll joke how it’s little silly to put his name there when he doesn’t even have a page anymore but then he’ll grin and say, “I just want everyone to now,” and he’ll shrug shly. Sebastian will look at him with a mix of emotions: fondness, tenderness, affection, amusement, wonder, disbelief. Blaine will laugh fondly, he’ll straddle him, run his fingers through his hair. “I wasn’t going to hide you, or keep you a secret,” he’ll say, “And now,” he’ll shrug, “Now you’re mine.” Sebastian will kiss him, he’ll grin and flip them over on the bed. They’ll kiss and kiss and laugh and kiss and touch and smile thankful - _oh so thankful_ \- that it’s Sunday, day with no classes, day when the gallery is closed, day where they can enjoy each other, touch each other, taste and take all day long.

  They will not have sex, not yet. But that’s okay, perfect really. And besides, there are so so many fun things they can do in bed, on the couch, standing in the middle of the room.

 

  

  On Monday - _Bastille Day -_ before dusk, they’ll make their way over to the _Champ de Mars_ with their friends. They’ll sit on blankets, play cards and snack and munch on watermelons, baguettes and cheese, croissants, drinking lemonade.

  When tower turns black Blaine will gasp just like every person around him and Sebastian will tighten his hold on him, pulling him further into his chest. Silence will fall for a few moments, like every person there is holding their breath, and then the whole park will be flooded with an exclamation of awe when fireworks explode in million brilliant-colored pieces lighting up the night sky. Wave of happiness and excitement and _life_ will wash over the park. Everything will be radiant and sparking, breathtaking: the colors painting the sky, the tower, people beneath; sounds of fireworks exploding; sounds of people cheering and laughing; the feel of Sebastian’s chest pressed to his back, his strong arms holding him close, his smile against the skin of his neck.

  

 

  In the next two and a half weeks, while Sebastian will be in Madrid, Blaine will spend more time with Haruki and Erika, he’ll work on his final project, he’ll walk the streets of Paris, soaking everything once more, committing it to memory yet again, letting everything imprint itself inside him: the sounds, the smells, the sights. He’ll marvel at the exquisite and sublime landmarks bathing in the sun or lit up at night, shining in different ways against the dark sky. He’ll inhale with full lungs the scents of freshly baked baguettes and croissants, pungent aromas of riped fruit, vegetables and cheese. For weeks afterwards, for months, his dreams will be misted with scents of lilies and lavenders, vine and cigarettes. Even those _city_ smells, those _urban_ smells - heavy scent of  urine, smell of few un-emptied garbage bins - he’ll find oddly likable. Like they’re making everything that much more real.

 

  He’ll talk to Sebastian all the time, of course.

 

  He’ll go see his mom. He’ll take the flash drive with audio files and he’ll sit by the bed, talking. He will be aware how _Hollywood_ it is but he will not care. If there is a chance, no matter how small, that Sebastian’s mom can hear him, is aware of anything at all, he’ll want her to how her son is making him happy. _So_ happy. How he makes him laugh like no one ever could, how he makes him feel special. He will tell her about everything he’s done for him, he’ll tell her how amazing he is, how he grew as a person, how proud of him she would be.

 

  He’ll receive an email from Jesper with a video attachment and a note that’ll say: **_January, 2014. You’re welcome. Don’t break his heart._** It will be the video of Sebastian singing, playing, _Be Mine_ by _David Gray._ The video will be a little wobbly but he will be able to hear his voice clearly; the voice of longing. He’ll see the expressions on his face change: look that speaks of locked desire, look of hope; smile tugging at his lips, brow furrowing, eyes closing.

  It will take him a moment to remember whose song it is but when he does he will not be able to recall how it sounds in the original; this song will always play in his minds in Sebastian’s voice. Like _Glad You Came_ or _Paint It Black_ or any song Sebastian ever sang or will ever sing.

  He’ll replay the video again and again and again and again; and million times more.

 

  Sebastian will be intent on surprising Blaine by flying to Paris a day earlier, but Mélanie will send him a text with his flight information allowing Blaine to be the one doing the surprising. Sebastian’s eyebrows will raise in confusion, in surprise and then he’ll grin but before he’ll be able to say anything Blaine will throw himself around him and kiss him. Kiss kiss kiss. He’ll sing quietly in his ear ♫ _Like you reached right into my head and turned on the light inside_  ♫ Sebastian will pull away. ♫ _Written blue on white it's plain to see be mine be mine_ ♫ “They’re supposed to be _my_ friends,” Sebastian will pout, or he'll try to pout, and Blaine will grin again and kiss him. “I am yours,” he’ll say and Sebastian will chuckle, holding him, not letting go.

  “I love hearing you sing,” Blaine will say, “I loved your voice from the moments I heard it, it gave me chills,” he’ll confess little shyly and then he’ll add, blushing, “I almost blurted it out.” Sebastian will laugh, “Yeah, ‘cause _that_ would’ve been embarrassing.” Blaine will bury his face in his chest, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he’ll mumble, hiding the smile. Sebastian will laugh again. “ _Hey, are you a freshman?_ ” he’ll imitate his dumbfoundedness and then he’ll whisper, _“_ It was absolutely adorable. I love your bashfulness, I love making you blush.” Blaine will chuckle, “I know. And I’m pretty sure you’ll always be able to.” Sebastian will grin, wide, “Good. You’re beautiful when you blush,” and Blaine will be quick to say, “You are too.” Sebastian will roll his eyes, take a hold of his hand and start walking, “I don’t blush,” he’ll say sternly. “You so --” _do_ will be swallowed by the kiss.   

 

  “I’m going to Venice for ten days,” he’ll tell him, “To visit my _nonna_ and I want you to come with me.”

 

And then they’ll be in Venice.

  Blaine will experience Sebastian meeting his _nonna,_ he’ll watch them getting acquainted, he’ll delight in them getting along. “Don’t worry about getting it right, go after what feels real,” he’ll remember what she told him in January. That’s exactly what he did; there’s nothing more real than Sebastian.

 

  After seeing all the touristy attractions they’ll explore the city together; Blaine’s familiarity with Venice is nowhere near as Sebastian’s of Paris. They’ll go to _Gardaland_ for three days since Blaine – embarrassingly – somehow managed to forget all about _Euro Disney._

 

  They’ll talk about what will happen when they return to the States. They’ll make a plan. Blaine will learn that Sebastian knows about every train riding from Jersey to New York, knows their schedules and how long the journey lasts. He’ll learn that he memorized all of that months ago; just like he did.

 

  

 

 ***

 

  They’re stretched on the lounges in the back garden of his _nonna’s_ house. The temperature is sweltering still, the summer refusing to mellow out. They just consumed a disturbing amount of pistachio/chocolate _gelato_ and all that iced-creamy dessert inside him makes Blaine shiver despite the hot weather. His tongue feels frozen.

  He moves over to Sebastian and the tall boy sits up, spreads his legs wide and Blaine sits in front of him, his own legs open and splayed over Sebastian’s. He feels his arms around his waist, sliding him up, closer to him.

  “I can’t feel my tongue,” Blaine says, chuckles. He really can’t, it’s just some dead weight inside his mouth.

  Sebastian instantly grins, a sly grin. “Well, let me help you with that,” he purrs and kisses him.

  And what do you know, Blaine’s tongue starts melting, he is melting as well. Moaning, gasping, running his hand through Sebastian’s hair, down his back, feels his fingers twisting his curls, feels fingers pressing the exposed flesh of his waist, dipping down, down past the waistband of his shorts. He is hot again, trembling as well. “ _Baby,”_ he sighs. Sebastian hums, his throat vibrates with _mmmm_ and _hmmm ._

They pull away, breathing deeply, smiling, close. And they just look at each other, keep taking each other in. Fingers playing with curls, fingers tracing beauty marks on the skin of the neck, throat, collarbone.

  It’s impossible to tell how long they just stay like that but now the sun is setting and Blaine catches something in Sebastian’s green eyes. A very special something.

  Sebastian’s fingers brush gently, oh so gently, over his cheek, down his jaw; Blaine’s eyes close and he feels his fingers against his slightly parted lips and they press down on instinct. “Blaine, _god_ \--” And his eyes open, he kisses his fingers tenderly. Sebastian’s fingers slide down his chin, down the curve of his throat, across his shoulder, down his arms and intertwine with his own. “Hey, can I tell you a secret?” he asks.

  Blaine grins. “Is it a good one?”

  “Yes,” he answers instantly but his lips twitch with that uncharacteristic shy tug. It’s the beginning of the shy smile, smile that Blaine is pleased to know, to see. “I know it may be too soon for this but --” he releases a sound that is half laughter, half chuckle and shakes his head. “I have to say it, I really do, I--” he shakes his head, like he can’t believe it himself. Blaine has seen this look in his eyes before, many times actually, but there is something different now and he realizes that Sebastian _is_ going to say it and he _can’t_ stop his face stretching into a smile. Sebastian regards him for a moment. “You know what I want to say, don’t you?”

  Blaine chuckles, little shy, very, very happy. Insanely so. “Maybe?” he says, looks at him from under his eyelashes.

  Sebastian kisses him. Looks at him. Deep. Unflinching. “I love you.” The grin spreads across his face unintentionally. He releases a smiling sigh. “I’m in love with you.” A voice of awe, a voice of happiness.

  Blaine kisses him with everything he has. Smiles against his lips. And then it’s all smiling kisses and holding each other and deep, endless endless kisses.

  

  It isn’t too soon. They’ve been together for little more than five weeks, yes - five weeks and three days - but they’ve met three years ago, they’ve been together for _months._ July twelfth is technicality, a lovely one for sure, a date they’ll always celebrate, an _official_ beginning of them, but reality is this: they’ve been together much longer, it’s been _them_ for months.

  Blaine is amazed by the closeness, the realness. He never thought it could feel like this: falling. Surrendering. Loving. Wanting to know each other so completely, wanting that person to know _you_ so utterly as well is scary and amazing _._ And already they know each other, so fully, so deeply. Muscles and flesh, blood and bones, heart and soul.  

 

  Blaine pulls away and looks at Sebastian. His best friend. His lover. His savior. The love of his life.

 “I love you too,” he says and feels like this is the biggest truth he’s ever said, feels like he’s never even said anything important before this moment.

  Sebastian smiles, smiles that _Blaine_ smile, and kisses him again.

 

  

  Blaine thought he knew what love was. He had no idea. This boy, this complicated, makes-you-shake-your-head, makes-you-lose-your-mind, incredible, beautiful boy showed him, made him _feel_ it. He loved Kurt, he did. That was love, yes, and he would never say otherwise, but this ---- this is _everything._

 

Sebastian. Blaine and Sebastian. Them.

 

  This is love that doesn’t change like the seasons or the tides. This love is real and unending. The single constant in the universe.

 

**\- the end -**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it.
> 
> Thank you for reading.
> 
> If you can please let me know what you think.
> 
> And here is something little extra:   
>  These are songs I’ve been listening while writing and in between writing. It’s not really a soundtrack, although I guess it can be. 
> 
> Empty – The Cranberries; Paint It Black – The Rolling Stones; Show Me the Meaning of Being Lonely – Backstreet Boys; Signal Fire – Snow Patrol; Second Chance – Shinedown; Not In This Life – Natalie Merchant; Better Man – Robbie Williams; Walk Unafraid – R.E.M.; C’est Di Bon - Yves Montand; Les Champs-Elysees – Joe Dassin; Be Mine – David Gray; Something About the Way You Look Tonight – Elton John


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